


sometimes green and sometimes blue

by itsmiz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Gemma, Alpha Jay, Alpha Liam, Alpha Louis, Alpha Niall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Elementary School, Fluff and Angst, High School, Kid Fic, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Middle School, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Omega Harry, Omega Zayn, Recreational Drug Use, Rutting, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 248,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmiz/pseuds/itsmiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's an omega, and Louis is an Alpha. They're best friends growing up together on the outskirts of Washington, D.C., but they've always been a bit more than friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one day you'll come into my world

**Author's Note:**

> A work in progress. I made everybody American in this, mainly because I'm more familiar with the school systems here but also because it's something I rarely see. For obvious reasons. A complete AU in the alpha/beta/omega trope that will show the boys growing up and then focus on them mostly as teenagers/older.

**Three and Five**

It’s the weekend after his third birthday, and Harry’s in the backseat of his parents’ blue station wagon with the windows up and the heat on full blast. Gemma’s next to him drawing on a pad of paper on her lap, and his mother is in the driver’s seat, singing along to an old song by Aretha Franklin. Harry knows it, so he hums along while he happily munches his Goldfish crackers and watches leafless trees pass by outside. His feet excitedly swing off the edge of his car seat to the beat of the music on the radio. They’re off to see Louis.

Louis, Harry’s best friend, is a tall, energetic boy with eyes as bright as the sky and a smile just as wide. Harry and his mom visit Louis a lot. Mostly on the weekends because lately it’s been snowing too much, but sometimes they go on regular days, too. Whenever Harry’s dad asks why Harry’s mom leaves the house all the time, she says to him, “Sometimes a good change of scenery is all it takes to make someone happy.” And she says that's also the reason she walks Harry’s stroller in neighborhoods that aren’t her own while her daughter is away at school and her mate is away at work, and Harry’s super glad, because everything’s much, much prettier everywhere else outside of his neighborhood, and that’s how he met Louis last year.

Harry loves going to Louis’ house to play. There’s a bunch of room inside and outside to run around. It’s the biggest house Harry has ever seen, like a castle from the princess movies Harry watches with Gemma, and each time he walks up the big steps to Louis’ front door, he always has a lot to look up at.

That afternoon, rain comes down from the sky, so Harry and Louis play inside while their mothers drink coffee together and talk. They always talk a lot. Louis’ dad, Austin, has Louis’ little baby sister on his lap in the kitchen. Harry can't see her, though, because she’s wrapped up in a blanket and Austin holds her very close to his chest. Her name is Charlotte but everyone already calls her Lottie, like a nickname. When Harry’s allowed to go look at her, his mom tells him to be very careful and not to touch. Then Austin takes her upstairs. She is very small.

Gemma’s coloring book occupies her all afternoon while Louis and Harry play loudly by the fireplace. Well, Louis plays loudly. Everything he does is loud, and it makes Harry laugh because Louis’ mom always says shhhh, Louis. Harry is always more quiet. Gentler. Even with action figures. After playing with Superman and Batman, he and Louis play trains. And then they play with a ball and then they color with Gemma until Harry yawns.

Rubbing his eye with the back of one hand, Harry sluggishly walks to his mom by the couch. She’s showing Louis’ mom a photograph. It’s of him!

Harry points to the picture. “Terranchla,” he says, remembering the name of the spider he’s holding in the photo.

“Tarantula,” his mom corrects him.

Louis’ mom gasps animatedly. “You held a tarantula?” she asks, impressed.

Harry proudly nods his head and smiles.

“You brave boy.”

“Cool, Harry!” Louis awes, walking over once he notices Harry has left his side. “Mom, can we get one?”

“No, Louis,” she answers him. “Harry doesn't own this spider, actually. They went to the zoo to see him.”

Harry grins. “The spider part of the zoo,” he tells her. He has to yawn, but then he smiles again afterwards.

Jay smiles, too. “When did you get to go?”

Harry looks up to his mom.

“Last Saturday,” Harry’s mom says to him.

“Last Saturday,” he answers Louis’ mom. He puts his thumb in his mouth. His mom tells him to take it out.

Louis excitedly tells Harry, tripping over his words, “We're--we're going to the--to the zoo with my class soon! Maybe we can take you, too! Can we, Mom?”

“Harry's little, honey. He's not in school yet,” Jay responds gently. “But maybe we can all go together sometime soon. When it’s warmer.”

Anne hesitantly smiles. “Maybe. We actually won free tickets last week through a radio station for Harry's birthday which is how we got to go. With two kids, money’s kind of tight.”

Anne would add on, “You know how it is,” but she doesn't.

“Oh, well, that's no problem,” Jay deflects. “It'll be on me.”

“No, no,” Anne declines, shaking her head. “I couldn't possibly let you do that. Thank you, though.” She laughs softly and turns her eyes to the floor.

Louis pulls at his mother’s shirt. “Mom, I'm bored. Can me and Harry go look for worms outside?”

“It's cold and raining,” Jay reminds her son.

Louis nods quickly. “That's when they're all out! We’ll put our boots and jackets on, I promise. Pleeease? Pleease?”

“It's past your nap time already.”

“But please?”

“After your nap, you can.”

Louis sees his mom’s eyes turn a little red on the outsides. They do that when she is Not To Be Argued With, but Louis always argues, anyway. “I don't need a nap.”

Louis’ mom sighs. “Yes, you do. And Harry does, too.”

“Oh.” Louis looks at Harry and takes his hand. “Well, you heard Mom, Harry. Let's take our nap and then--then we can go look for worms!”

Harry walks away for a moment to get his favorite blanket out of the bag his mom packed for him. With it in one hand, he walks back to Louis and holds out his fingers again. Hand-in-hand, the pair walks up the staircase and straight down the hall until they go into Louis’ room to sleep. Harry's mom stands up and watches them until they’re out of her line of vision.

Anne laughs as she sits back down on the sofa next to Jay. “Well, that was easy. I need Louis around more often.”

“Harry doesn't usually fight going down for naps, does he?”

“No, not usually, but I've never seen him go get his blanket and just put himself to bed that quickly without it being a big deal. Louis is a good influence on him.”

Jay smiles before standing and collecting their coffee cups. “That boy is so darn independent. He’ll barely listen to anything I say unless Harry’s around.”

“Maybe you and I should just move in together, then,” Anne jokes, standing up, as well, to help Jay clean up. “Our kids would be perfect angels.”

On the floor, Gemma looks up from her coloring book and grins over-animatedly. “I'm already an angel, Mom.”

 

* * *

 

**Four and Six**

When Harry and Gemma come back from a week-long stay at their grandparents’ house in Pennsylvania the summer after Harry turns four, the first thing Harry asks his mom is if he can go over to Louis’ to swim.

“Well, I missed you, too,” Anne remarks with her hands on her hips and an amused look on her face. Harry gives her a big hug so she doesn’t feel bad.

Harry’s mom agrees to let Harry and Gemma stay at Louis’ while she drives the car around the city getting important things done. While Gemma writes stories in her notebook off to the side of the pool, Harry swims in the water with Louis. Because he’s four, he still has to wear his water wings, but he doesn't have to keep them on if he stays out of the deep end and if someone watches him. Louis’ dad Austin looks from the side of the yard where he and Louis’ mom are rolling a big ball back and forth with Lottie, and he gives Harry the thumbs-up sign. Harry squeals and waves. Playing in the water is so fun, especially if he doesn’t have to have those plastic things on his arms.

Louis and Harry spend the afternoon splashing around in the not-deep end where Harry’s feet can touch the bottom, and sometimes they sing songs together as they play. Sometimes they splash Gemma and she says you two are so annoying, but Harry knows she isn’t mad because normally he can feel it when other people are mad.

There’s nothing to be mad about today. Being at Louis’ is never anything but fun. Harry thinks Louis is a very hyperactive and silly boy, in the best of ways. He’s also very strong and can do a lot of strong, big-kid things.

Shouting out, “Watch, Harry!” before swimming from one side of the pool to the other without coming up for air, Louis shows off. He does flips underwater, too. Harry tries to do the same things, but mostly he just watches Louis and claps for him.

“I bet by the end of the summer you’ll be good enough to race me,” Louis says when he’s done, all out of breath and smiling.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Louis replies easily, flicking his wet hair to the side. “You’re getting good! Maybe you’ll even win ‘cause you’re fast.”

Harry’s eyes are big and happy. When he and Louis aren’t playing games or goofing around, Louis likes to teach Harry how to swim. Harry can’t really do it without coming up for air every three seconds, but if Louis thinks he’s getting better, then he probably is because Louis’s always right. So that’s what Harry does for the next half-hour: practices swimming while Louis keeps his hands under his torso to make sure Harry doesn’t go under too far or swallow water. Harry doesn’t think he’s fast at all, or at least not nearly as fast as Louis is, but he’s getting better. It makes him excited thinking about racing Louis one day.

Afterwards, when his and Louis’ skin’s all kissed by the sun and their eyes are all reddened by chlorine and Harry’s hair looks all wild and curly and Louis’ hair all blonde and sticking up everywhere, Louis’ mom cuts up strawberries and makes sandwiches that everybody eats outside.

After looking at Harry’s plate still full of food, Gemma laughs before walking away to play with Lottie. Harry knows why she’s picking on him. She eats really quickly, but Harry always takes a long time. Gemma picks on him for it because he does everything sort of slowly (except swimming now, ‘cause Louis says he’s getting fast), but he just really likes to enjoy his food. He doesn’t care that his sister’s laughing at him. He keeps humming as he sips his juice on the porch swing next to Louis until he reaches the very bottom and begins noisily slurping up air.

He shakes his juice box. It’s empty. He looks down at his lap and tries not to cry. Gemma always says he cries too much. It’s something else she picks on him about.

Just a second later, Louis offers Harry his own juice box, and Harry is happy to feel that it’s full. He puts the straw to his mouth and sips it all down, swinging his feet in glee. Louis puffs out his chest, and Harry is happy again.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Five and Seven**  
**Kindergarten/2nd Grade**

In the corner of the living room, Gemma plays with Barbies that are half-naked. Harry lays close to her but not too close because she says she wants her own space to play in. At first that makes Harry sad, but he shortly gets over it because at least he’s close enough to still talk to her. He has his tongue at the corner of his mouth, absentmindedly crashing his matchbox cars together on the carpet, and she’s dressing and re-dressing her dolls, making them talk to one another.

Because the weather is really hot now, Gemma’s home all the time again because she doesn’t have to go to school. It would be fun to have her home all day, but she doesn’t really play with Harry. Not like Louis does. Louis is usually away all day learning stuff at school, too, and Harry’s excited that he’ll be home a bunch more just like Gemma now that it’s summer. He’ll get to see him all the time again.

Wiggling around on the carpet, Harry sings happily. His mom’s dusting furniture and playing an Elton John CD in the background, and Harry knows all the words to it from beginning to end. He sings it louder as he runs his cars back and forth on the carpet.

Stopping mid-song, Harry looks up at his mother and asks, “Louis will be home all the time now, Mom?”

She can’t hear him. He speaks louder.

“Mom? Louis will stay at home now? He’ll be home all day?”

“When he’s not doing other things,” Harry’s mom replies. “Somethin’ about the way you look tonight,” she sings to Harry before crouching down beside him, tickling his nose with the dusting brush in her hand. “But, yes, that’s right. He won’t go back to school until the fall.”

“Ohhh, that's when the leaves come off the trees!”

With her hands, his mom tickles his belly and his sides now as she replies, “Sure is, you smart boy. And you’re going to school in the fall, too. You'll be pushed up a grade before you even finish Kindergarten if you keep it up!”

Harry squeaks and kicks his legs as his mom continues to tickle him. He doesn’t know what his mother means, but he does know he’s happy to go to school. He’ll ride the same bus that Gemma does. It’s number twenty-one. He doesn't have to worry about school or riding the bus for a very long time, though, because now it is summer, and summer always means fun.

That night, Harry spends the night at Louis’ house, and the next night, Louis stays over at Harry’s. Harry's place is much smaller than Louis’, and all he has is an old, metal swing-set in the tiny backyard. And it really stinks because the pole comes out of the ground whenever they use it, so after a while, his mom says they aren't allowed to get on it anymore.

But Louis doesn’t care. He’s imaginative. He and Harry make up a game and go on an adventure in the small plot of land behind Harry’s townhouse. They can have fun just about anywhere.

Climbing the chain-link fence and pretending they’re pirates, in the matter of an hour, Harry and Louis are hot and smiling and covered in grass stains. The air is humid, and sweat covers their skin like water. Later that evening, when they’re still fighting off other pirates to protect their treasure, Harry sees a cat rolling around in the dirt, and it immediately rubs itself against Harry’s legs once Harry approaches it. It even lets Harry pet it down its back.

“Louis, look! Look, Louis. Louis! He must have jumped the fence. Look!” Harry excitedly shows Louis the animal.

Harry holds the cat and snuggles it close to him. Louis sticks his nose in its fur and makes a face.

“It’s a boy,” Louis says, “and boy, he needs a bath.” He waves his hand in front of his nose. “Peeyeww, he stinks.”

Harry giggles and holds the cat closer. “Silly. Cats don’t like baths. He cleans himself, don’t you?” he speaks to the cat. His voice sounds very high when he talks to it. “You don’t stink. You smell like a flower.”

“He’s dirty.”

“He’s not dirty,” Harry says in a sing-song voice, all smiles at his new friend. “He’s just a little dusty.”

Back inside, Harry’s mom is surprised at the mangy animal Harry holds up like a prize and tells him he has to give him back to his owners.

“But he likes me,” Harry says pitifully. His bottom lip sticks out.

When Louis steps closer to his side, Harry doesn’t feel so much like crying anymore, but it’s still a bad feeling when they take their bath together that night knowing that he can’t keep his new cat.

“We’ll just say we asked around and that no one knew who he belongs to,” Louis mutters in bed that night.

Harry shakes his head. “That’s not being very honest.”

“His owners are probably jerks, anyway,” Louis reassures. “He’s all dirty.”

Harry’s eyes feel heavy, but he still argues with Louis as he drifts off to sleep. “He’s not dirty. He’s dusty.”

Harry feels too guilty the next day to not listen to his mother. Plus, it’s the right thing to do to see if the cat really has another home to go to. But nobody claims him. Not even when Harry and Louis knock on every door to all the attached townhouses the next day and ask them one-by-one.

So Harry’s mom and dad agree to let Harry keep him! He names him Dusty because he and Louis found him in the dirt. He really loves his new cat. The next week, Louis’ family gets a pet, too. A dog. It’s big and loud and energetic, just like Louis. Louis names him Ted because his fur kind of looks like a teddy bear. Harry wants Dusty and Ted to meet because he knows they’ll be friends just like he and Louis are.

 

* * *

 

In September, Harry goes to school because he’s a big boy. That’s what everyone says even though he’s sort of little. Now that he and Gemma are both away during the day, his mom gets a job in the city just like his dad, and sometimes she isn’t home when Harry and Gemma get off the bus. On those days, they have to wait at the neighbor’s house until someone comes home from work.

Mr. Johnson, an old man who gives him and Gemma hard cookies to eat, watches very boring movies about cowboys, and Harry feels a little afraid of him, but he doesn’t know why. He just stays quiet and says please and thank you when Mr. Johnson offers them his little candies that look like strawberries. They’re not as good as real strawberries, though, especially not Louis’ mom’s strawberries, but Harry always says he loves them and thank you very much for the candy.

At school, Harry misses his mom a lot. Sometimes so much he cries about it. He does that when he has to stay with his grandparents in Pennsylvania, too, but only for the first night. After that, he’s okay. At school, he doesn’t know anybody, so it makes it a lot different. His mom says he is a very sensitive boy and that everything will be okay if he just thinks happy thoughts.

His happy thoughts are that going to school means he gets to learn things and get smarter. And that stuff is important. Plus, his sister says she knows a really smart boy named Derek Collins who was bumped up a grade because he was so smart. Harry’s mom even said something about that, too, so Harry knows if he works really, really hard, he’ll get bumped up, too. If he got really smart, he’d get go all the way up to the second grade with Louis and just skip the first grade completely! That would be great if he didn’t even have to complete an entire grade.

He reads from his big book every night, pointing under each word as he speaks it out loud. He’s an excellent reader. And he’s good at counting, too.

That makes his teacher happy. She’s very nice. She teaches him all sorts of things like how to know what kinds of bugs are what, and stuff about different shapes and colors and people. One day, she holds up pictures of men and women to test the class on that week’s lesson. The first picture is of a burly guy holding a chainsaw.

“Alpha,” the class all says together. Those are the big, strong people. They always smell the strongest. That’s like Louis!

The next picture is of a woman wearing a bandana. “Alpha,” they say, because she is big and muscular.

A small man with children. “Omega.”  
A woman sitting behind a big desk at work. “Alpha.”  
A woman waiting tables. “Omega.”  
A woman in jeans with a child on her lap. “...Beta?” they question. Those were really hard for Harry because Betas were easier to smell than to look at, but the class gets the question correct.

Harry raises his hand. “That’s like my dad,” he tells his teacher when she calls on him. People at the next table laugh behind their hands while his teacher smiles at him nicely.

“Good job, class,” she praises everyone, and then Harry takes out his workbook to practice writing out his first and last name.

 

* * *

 

  
Louis holds the ball and runs, squeezes it close to his stomach and runs, dodges people chasing after him and runs. He runs way beyond anyone else on the other team trying to touch him and end the play, and he keeps his eyes forward as he sprints into the endzone and scores his second touchdown of the evening.

Louis’ standing still and panting by the time his friends catch up to him to give him high-fives, and the Alphas on the other team jealously look on. Louis smiles and feels victorious. He likes being good at sports. He likes having attention.

Louis wishes Harry could play with him, but he's too little. Plus, he couldn't play anyway because he isn't an Alpha. The teams at school are split up so the Alphas and Betas play on different leagues, and there isn’t even a team set up for the omegas when it comes to football. Soccer and baseball, yeah, but not football. That’s kind of sad ‘cause Louis has taught Harry how to be really good at catching and throwing a football this year, but he won’t ever get to play for the school.

The coach praises Louis for his good effort, and his mom smiles from the sidelines and takes pictures. He gets to take a trophy home when the game is over. He adds it to all the others on the shelf on his wall.

 

* * *

 

 **Six and Eight**  
**1st/3rd Grade**

In the first grade, Harry still misses his mom when he’s away learning stuff at school. Sitting at his desk, he thinks about her and her smile and the way she smells. He loves the way she smells. She has a cozy, flowery, comfortable smell, and sometimes when she hugs him goodbye before he gets on the bus, her scent stays on his clothes and makes him happy. It’s already wearing off now, though.

It’s mid-morning, and Harry’s teacher calls every student one by one to stand up and take a bathroom break alone as everyone else does their silent work. They have a bathroom that everyone gets to use in their classroom, but the ones in the hallways aren’t like that. Harry is only allowed to go in the one with a little symbol on it that kind of reminds him of a horseshoe. When it’s Harry’s turn to get up to use the class-bathroom, he sits on the toilet and cries.

Even though it’s now his second year in Elementary School, there are lots of people in his class that he still doesn’t know well. Only about four or five came to his birthday party back in February when he was in Kindergarten, but it was still a nice time, Harry guesses. It’s really hard to make friends with more people because a lot of them don’t talk back when he tries to talk to them. They touch his neck as they walk by or bump into him sometimes, but they never want to talk to him much. Harry doesn’t get how they can be so unfriendly when they see each other every single day. When they brush by him, they make his mom’s smell go away, and Harry doesn’t like it.

He wipes his eyes, splashes his face with water, and walks back to his desk again to read another page in his book. At least he’s getting very good at his schoolwork. He’s closer to being bumped up into Louis’ grade every day. It would be really great to be in a class where he knows someone.

At lunchtime, Harry looks all over the place for Louis. He can’t find him, though. He never gets to see Louis in school much, and that’s sad. Harry presses his nose into the sleeve of his shirt to calm himself down. He can still smell his mom there if he tries hard enough.

Harry goes home feeling tired, but at least his mom is already there and he doesn’t have to sit at Mr. Johnson’s house with Gemma until she gets home. She’s happy and smiling and gives him a big hug that Harry never wants to let go of, and then his dad comes home and goes upstairs without saying much. He’s tired from work just like Harry is tired from school. He’s taking Harry to a college football game this weekend, though, so Harry is happy. It’s fun to watch football.

After Harry eats dinner and takes his bath, his mom reads a story to him and Gemma in their separate rooms. Harry always looks forward to story-time. When his mom finishes, she kisses him goodnight, and Harry breathes in real deep and smiles.

Like always, he hears the floor creak as she walks downstairs, and then some time later he hears loud voices, like most nights. That’s another reason why he likes Louis’ house so much. It’s never loud there. His parents don’t really get that grumpy.

He misses his and Louis’ sleepovers. It’s been a few weeks since they had one. He rolls around under his bedsheets and sniffs. Nothing smells like Louis anymore, and his dad is being loud downstairs. He can’t sleep.

Harry sneaks into Gemma’s room. He makes sure to tip-toe across the hall and hold a hand over Dusty’s mouth as he carries him gently. Gemma grumbles, but like she always does, she lifts her blanket for him.

“They're being really loud tonight,” he says, and, “It’s hurting my ears,” and, “I can't sleep,” and Gemma just says shh until his breathing evens out.

 

* * *

 

 

“Alphas on the right, Betas in the middle, omegas on the left, please,” the teacher instructs.

Louis steps out of place and holds up his hand. Without being called on, he asks, “Mrs. Williams, when's recess today?”

“Louis, get back in line, please. It's time for our bathroom break.”

“But when’s recess?”

“The same time it normally is. Please don't speak out of turn again, and get back in line.”

“You're only asking because it's Tuesday,” Louis’ friend, Stan, sniggers from the line in the middle. “It's Harry's art day when we go to recess and you only want to walk by his class.”

“So? I want to wave to him. We were late to recess yesterday, and I couldn't see him when we walked by the computer lab ‘cause his class was already out.”

In front of Louis, a tall girl with pigtails turns her head to speak. “Yeah, because you put a frog in Harrison's desk and held everybody up.”

Louis scoffs. “There's no proof of that.”

“It peed in your hand, and I could smell it,” she says.

Another girl in front of the other whips around sharply. “Shh!” she says bossily. Louis makes a face at her.

Suddenly, Mrs. Williams is in front of Louis and Stan. “It's funny you were just asking about recess, Louis. You'll be sitting out during it today.”

His classmates all look at him and eerily jeer, “Oooooooh.”

Louis makes an affronted sound to his teacher. “I wasn't even doing anything!”

With a frown on her face, Mrs. Williams taps her foot. “All week,” she tackles on.

“I wasn’t even the only one talking,” Louis mutters. His teacher’s face is severe and unhappy, but she walks back to the front of the class.

“Sorry, Louis,” Stan apologizes quietly.

When his teacher is gone, Louis is silent and mad. He’s like that all throughout the rest of the morning, and at lunchtime, Stan finally says something.

“Why do you even care if you see Harry or not?” Stan asks. “It’s weird. He’s such a baby.”

Louis punches a person for the first time ever that day, right there at the cafeteria table. And even though he gets in trouble at home and he’s required to go to special after-school classes about Alpha-anger-management for an entire week after the incident, he still thinks it was worth standing up for Harry. Especially because Stan never says anything bad about him after that.

 

* * *

 

  
**Seven and Nine**  
**2nd/4th Grade**

A new family moves into the townhouse next to the Styles’ when Harry is seven. He doesn’t think a lot of people talk to them, and it makes Harry sad because being friendly is important. Even if other people aren’t nice, Harry always is. Or, like with Mr. Johnson, he pretends to be because it’s polite. But now there is no more Mr. Johnson because there are new neighbors!

Harry’s mom says the other neighbors are only rude to the new people because they don’t go to church, but Harry's family hadn't gone to church in many years, and people still talk to them. People just don’t make sense.

Harry peeks out of the window in his room and sees the people moving boxes and furniture inside the building. There are kids! Harry’s super excited. Mr. Johnson was really old, and he didn't let anyone walk near his steps. He had a big black and orange sign out front that said no one could come by without permission. That wasn’t good because Dusty tends to escape, and Harry would always be afraid the man would yell when Harry had to go chase him.

With his mom working these days, it’s been hard to get to play with Louis unless Harry rides his bike over to Louis’ house. Then his mom only lets him go if Gemma goes, too, and sometimes Louis isn’t even home, so it just makes Harry sad because he doesn’t see him as much anymore. So when Harry sees one--two--three kids, he grins.

“Mom! Look!”

“I see them,” she says, smiling. “Do you think we should bake them something to welcome them to the neighborhood?”

“Yes! I love baking!”

So Harry makes them brownies.

As the week goes on, Harry finds out that one boy who lives next-door is his own age. His name is Zayn, and he’s small and skinny and has fluffy, dark hair. Zayn is in Harry's grade, and it’s awesome. Harry finally has a person to sit with on the bus. Harry knows that Zayn’s an omega, too, because when he gave his brownies to the family, Harry could smell him. Harry doesn’t think there are any other omegas in the family but Zayn. Most of them are Betas, but he thinks the older girl may be an Alpha. He’s getting better with his nose.

“Where did you move here from?” Harry asks one morning after he and Zayn walk down the long aisle of the bus and take their seats in the middle. The back is always full of Alphas, and the front is for the younger kids.

Zayn looks at Harry curiously. He’s asked a lot of questions all week, and it’s only Zayn’s third day at school. “Southeast.”

“Where's that?”

Zayn looks confused. “Southeast D.C.?”

“Oh. That's not far at all! Like, a half hour my dad says. He works there. What did you come here for?”

“Just to get out of the city. My parents say it's better here.”

“Oh. My family came here from not too far away, too. It's in Pennsylvania. But it was a long time ago. I don't have any family here except my parents and Gemma. She's eleven and has a green backpack. She’s home sick today.”

“I’ve seen her.”

“Yeah, that's my only sister. She’s in fifth grade. What are your sisters’ names again?”

“That's Doniya back there.” Zayn points to his older sibling sitting at the back of the bus. “And Waliyha is the little one you met. She's two.”

“Sorry I forgot the names. I've never heard them before. They're so pretty,” Harry comments.

He thinks about Louis’ sisters. Lottie just started pre-Kindergarten this year. Harry never went to pre-Kindergarten, just Kindergarten. It’s not all that different, he thinks. Then Austin had another baby not long ago, and he and Jay named her Felicite. But just like with Louis’ other sister, they don’t call her by her real name, just Fizzy. Harry has gotten to see her a few times, and he thinks she’s very cute. Everybody sure has a lot of sisters!

“So do you like it here so far?”

Zayn stops staring out of the window to look at Harry. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Harry doesn’t have a response at first. “Well. My mom always says to be nice. And you're my neighbor, too.” Harry turns on the squishy seat to face Zayn. “Did you wanna be my friend?”

The boy smiles shyly. “Yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” Harry says with a smile. He sticks out his hand. “Friends, then.”

Zayn looks at Harry’s hand with a little bit of distrust before he finally smiles. He holds out his own, and he laughs as Harry happily shakes it. “Friends.”

 

* * *

 

“Are James and Jacob sleeping over tonight?” Louis asks his mom one afternoon after school, a bit out of breath. He’s all sweaty from running around outside with Calvin. Calvin’s just as gross. Currently, Calvin’s shifting snacks around in the pantry with sticky, dirty hands, so comfortable in Louis’ home it’s like it’s his own. Louis’ dog, Ted, stands between the pair, padding back and forth and wagging his tail in excitement at nothing.

“Nah, don’t think so,” Jay replies. She’s at the little kitchen table with a checkbook and a lot of bills in front of her.

“Good, that means we can get on the PlayStation downstairs,” Louis tells Calvin happily. “C’mon, let’s go to the basement.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jay says. “You need to walk Ted.”

“But he doesn’t need to go on a walk.”

“He’s your dog, Louis. You need to learn responsibility.”

“We were just outside running around with him, though, mom! Stop being so pushy.”

Jay doesn’t look up from the bills in front of her, but she shakes her head. “You’re testing my nerves.”

“Love you!” Louis says quickly before turning around and running down to the basement. Ted follows at his heels, almost knocking him over.

“Pushy moms, man,” Louis mutters once they’re downstairs, but Calvin doesn’t hear him. He’s looking around in wonder. He doesn’t come down to the basement often. Normally, everyone just hangs out in Louis’ room.

“Your uncles have their own room down here?”

Louis plops down on a big beanbag chair and waits for Calvin to do the same before he starts up his game. “Yeah. They stay over a lot because they work somewhere close and their house is way far away on the other side of the city. And James goes to school closer to here, too. But good thing they’re not here tonight ‘cause we can be as loud as we want. Ted--get off,” Louis grumbles, pushing the hairy dog off his lap.

Calvin’s eating a bag of Cheetos he brought down with him. His fingers are all orange and dusty as he clicks the buttons to choose the car he’s about to drive. “Cool. I wish you had an Xbox down here, man. PlayStation sucks.”

“Does not,” Louis argues. “But the only Xbox I’ve got is in my room. We can play it later. This TV’s just bigger.”

“Yeah, my dad has a TV like this, too,” Calvin says, looking at the big-screen tube television. “And I got the new Xbox for Christmas. It’s awesome.”

“Sick,” Louis says with his eyes glued to the screen. “Ask your dad if I can stay over tomorrow so we can play.”

“We play the Eagles tomorrow after school, anyway, and it’s Friday. You can just ride home with us. He’ll say yes. He always does.”

When Louis and Calvin are done with the game, they wrestle around for a bit and get sweaty all over again. Louis stands on the couch because it makes him taller and jumps across the room until he lands on Calvin’s back. They laugh and grunt and roll around together while taking turns pinning one another down, Ted getting in the way the entire time.

Louis is getting more muscular, but Calvin’s good competition. Louis always tries to be the best, but Calvin is kind of stronger. Louis isn’t a bad sport or anything, though. He just likes to win.

 

* * *

 

 

Zayn likes music just like Harry does. They often stay up late singing together. They get to spend the night with each other a lot because they live next door to one another and it’s convenient. Zayn also likes sports, and that’s good, because Harry does, too. Neither of the boys are very fanatical about them like Louis is, though.

That actually pleases Harry. When Harry’s with Louis, which isn’t that much anymore because Harry’s always busy with schoolwork or his parents can’t take him, Louis’s always saying, “Let's go outside, Harry,” or, “I'm bored.” “Let's do something.” Let's let's let's.

Harry loves playing with Louis, and he's actually gotten very good at a lot of sports because of it. He’s even gotten good at acting, too, cause that’s something that Louis really likes to do--play pretend--but sometimes Harry just wants to stay inside, wants to read or sing or cook or even just clean his room. Zayn’s the same way. Except for the cleaning part.

Harry and Zayn both really like soccer, though, so when they do feel like being active, they play together in the little “park” near where they live. But only if Zayn's mom isn’t home. Harry doesn’t understand why until one day when they’re kicking around the ball, Zayn’s mom stands on the stoop and hollers as loud as she can, “Stop playing that! You're omegas! You both could get hurt! Come back inside!”

And that’s the first time Harry can distinctly remember being treated differently just because of his gender.

But it’s not the last.

Harry soon realizes that the people in his class don’t just pick on him; they do it to all the omegas. In all the grades. As the school year goes by and fall turns to spring, he watches it happen to omegas he doesn’t even know when other kids in other grades play on the playground or eat their lunch. He sees a lot of stuff. He’s observant. Alphas can get away with just about anything.

Today, actually, something happens that proves that. It’s the end of the day on one of the very last days of the school year, and Harry has to pee. He knows rules are important, but he breaks out of line on the way to the buses to find a bathroom he can use because he’s really gotta go.

Walking inside, he sees two Alphas standing by the sinks talking, and he gasps. There aren’t supposed to be Alphas in the omega’s bathroom. That means he’s gone in the wrong one. He quickly scurries out because he’s just made a really big mistake, and now he’ll be in trouble. Even more trouble, since he’ll probably be in trouble for leaving his class and going off on his own, too. His face feels hot.

Before he can actually leave, though, the smaller Alpha boy calls after him. “Aw, where ya goin? Don’t you need to sit down and pee?”

The other Alpha hits the guy who just spoke in the chest and begins to walk out to pursue Harry. “Hey! Wait up!”

Harry steps outside into the hallway, and a lot of people are walking everywhere, like the big herd of animals in the Lion King. They run into his backpack. Harry can feel his heart start to beat faster because he really needs to pee and now he’s afraid. He chances a peek around his shoulder to look up at the symbol above the bathroom door. It does have the horseshoe symbol there.

Harry gasps.

The Alphas are in the omega bathroom. Harry had gone into the correct one after all, but the Alphas were in it. They aren’t supposed to be there. It shouldn’t shock Harry, but it still does. They always just do whatever they want. And now Harry’s going to be stuck going home with an ache in his private parts because that big Alpha boy behind him has the door blocked.

“Come back in here,” the taller guy says, beckoning Harry back inside with a hand on his shoulder. He turns Harry around. “We won’t bite.”

“Bet you wish we would,” the other Alpha says.

“Dude, shut up.”

Harry stands still before slowly walking inside. He wants to run away, but the boy has a hand on his shoulder. Plus, he really does need to go to the bathroom. Plus he’s afraid. Plus he’s not really supposed to disobey Alphas who are older, even if his mom tells him he doesn’t have to listen to them.

The taller Alpha--the nicer one, kind of--lets go of Harry’s shoulder and stands by the main door, and the other one stands on Harry’s left by the row of stalls. Harry is now in the middle feeling very awkward and scared.

“Are you going to hurt me?” he asks.

They laugh. The one by the stalls says “Maybe,” at the same time the other one says, “No, we’re not gonna hurt you.”

Harry’s eyes are wide. “You’re really not supposed to be in here.”

The guy standing by the door shrugs. “You’re Gemma’s little brother, aren’t you?”

Harry looks to the floor and nods very, very slowly.

“That’s what I thought,” he says. There’s delight in his voice. “Look, I want you to do me a favor.”

Harry’s eyes are wide. He just looks at the guy.

“Give this to your sister,” he tells Harry, passing a note to his hand. It’s badly folded and has strips of fringe on the side. Harry makes a face. He likes his paper to be clean. “I’ll know if you read it, so don’t.”

“Okay,” Harry agrees, swallowing. “I won’t.” He stands still after pocketing the note and doesn’t say anything else.

“What are you doing?” the Alpha to his left says, chuckling.

Harry looks past him to the stalls. He puts his kneecaps together and squats a little. “I really gotta go.”

The boy blocking the toilets moves out of the way as he shakes his head. “So weird there aren’t urinals in here.”

“It’s an omega’s bathroom, dude, shut up. Come on.”

After the two Alphas leave, Harry finally gets to use the bathroom, and when he’s done, he runs outside as fast as he can. He’s been gone a long time.

When he gets outside, he thinks his heart drops down to his feet, if that can happen inside your body. The buses are all gone. All of them. He looks all around. It’s quiet. Not even any students are left outside. He does see one grown-up, though, standing by a tree. He approaches her.

“Mrs. Hamilton,” he speaks. He looks up, and the tall lady wearing black heels can’t hear him. She walks away in the direction of the main school door that Harry just walked out of. He follows her. “Mrs. Hamilton!”

She has a walkie-talkie to her mouth, and she opens the door to the school and walks inside. Harry stands still and looks around again. There are absolutely no buses by the curb anymore. Normally his bus is the fifth one in line. It’s number twenty-one. But there aren’t any buses.

He doesn't know what to do. He can go inside to find Mrs. Hamilton--or another teacher--but they'll probably get upset with him. It's his own fault he’s missed the bus. They'll just say he needs to learn responsibility and then any chance he has of being bumped up a grade will be gone because he’ll look stupid. He’s been working so, so hard, too. He can’t have that happen.

He knows he's going to have to walk home, but he sits by a tree and cries first because he's so upset at himself. He should have gotten away from the Alphas in the bathroom. He should have been able to just hold in his pee until he got home. He hates himself sometimes. Zayn always says he hates being an omega, and Harry always asks, “Why?” but now he knows. It’s the worst. He puts his head in the palms of his hands as his shoulders quake.

A few minutes later, he thinks he hears his name, so he moves closer to the trunk of the tree before wiping his face off.

“Harry?”

When Harry’s done wiping his nose, he turns his head to the sound of the voice. He recognizes it now that’s it’s closer, and even though Louis looks worried, Harry feels instantly relieved when he sees his friend running to him. He's wearing loose clothes, shin guards, and cleats: his soccer uniform.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Louis sits down next to Harry. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

Harry looks down. “The buses left without me.” Before Louis can get mad at a teacher or a bus driver for forgetting Harry, he explains, “It was my fault. I’ll just have to walk now. But it’s okay.”

“No, don't walk, silly. That would take forever. Go inside with me.” He stands up and holds out a hand for Harry. “Someone can call your mom.”

“But I don't know her work number,” he mopes as he takes Louis’ hand and stands.

“They’ll have that kind of stuff in there.”

Even though Harry is snotty, Louis gives him a big, big hug, and he holds on for a very long time. When Louis lets go, Harry feels much better. Louis gives Harry a big smile. “It’s alright now, yeah? Don’t cry.”

As they walk back to the school, Louis asks, “Do you wanna stay the night tonight? It’s not a school night, and Austin’s making tacos.”

Harry’s eyes feel all blotchy and sore. He squints in the sun as he looks up to Louis. “Yeah. I have to ask my mom, though.”

“I came up here ‘cause I really gotta pee, but before that, let’s go to the office and get them to call my mom, and then she can call your mom, and then you can just go home with me after soccer practice. Austin’s coming in two hours.”

Harry is confused by all that because Louis speaks sort of fast, but he smiles. “Okay. I don’t have any clothes, though.”

“Wear mine.” Louis opens the door to the school, and even though Harry enters the building first, Louis leads the way to the guidance office.

Louis talks to the ladies there behind the desk, and within moments, he’s behind the desk himself with a big phone by his ear. When Harry speaks to his mom, too, she doesn’t sound happy and says that Gemma is in a lot of trouble, but she does say that she’s not mad at Harry, so that makes him feel a billion times better. And she agrees to let him stay the night with Louis, and he hasn’t done that in forever! It’s hard to believe he was just crying a few minutes ago, because he’s so happy now he can feel it all over.

Later, Harry watches Louis’ soccer practice and cheers Louis on. He notices that the players are a lot more aggressive than when he and Zayn play. There's a lot of grunting, and some of the players push one another. He can kind of understand why the school doesn’t let omegas play with Alphas.

Afterwards, when Austin picks them up, Louis climbs into the van, passes his two sisters in the middle section, and sits down in the middle seat in the very back. That way he can see everything going on, both in the car and out the front window, just like he likes. Harry takes the seat to the right of Louis, squished beside him so that Louis’ damp skin touches his own. Louis puts the snack he’s stolen from practice for Harry into Harry’s lap as he opens his own, and Harry grins.

Once they get on the highway, Louis is already done with his bag of chips, so he drops the package on the floor and wipes his crumbly hands off on the empty seat to his left. When he sees a piece of paper sticking out of Harry’s pocket, he points it out. “What’s that?”

“Oh. A note for my sister,” Harry answers, his mouth full.

“From who?” Louis asks. He pulls the note out of Harry’s pocket.

“This Alpha today.” Harry tries to take the piece of paper back. “But he said not to read it! I’ll get in trouble!”

“Who said not to read it?” Louis asks while he opens the letter and begins reading it. “Oh-ho-ho, look, Harry! Someone’s got the hots for your sister!”

Harry leans closer to Louis and reads, too. The guy’s name from earlier is apparently Seth, and he wants Gemma to meet him by the tetherball pole tomorrow at recess. He put little hearts after his phone number at the bottom, and Harry sticks his index finger down his throat after he’s done swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“Eww! He likes Gemma!”

Louis starts cracking up. “‘Meet me at the tetherball pole tomorrow,’” he reads between his spurts of laughter, “‘because I want to ask you something very important.’ Ooh, how romantic!”

“Louis, you’re being too loud,” Austin says from the front.

“He’s not a very good speller,” Harry comments.

“And who even plays tetherball?” Louis can’t stop laughing, and it’s contagious.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs. “He sucks.” He isn’t supposed to use bad language like that, but it’s funny.

“He’s pathetic! And he got an omega to do this for him, that’s even worse.”

Harry’s face falls, and his laughter dies down. Louis hasn’t ever really pointed out the fact that Harry’s an omega before, let alone picked on him for it. It’s a bad feeling.

“Just ‘cause I’m an omega doesn’t mean I can’t be important,” Harry says in a small voice.

Louis turns his head to Harry. “Huh?”

Harry is bad at sticking up for himself. Since he’s learned a lot this year about people and how they act, he’s figured out that a lot of people think omegas are weak and can’t do anything, and Harry doesn’t want to be seen like that. He can do lots of things. Maybe not everything Alphas can do, but he can be helpful. He’s not lazy.

“I’m an omega, but I can do stuff, too.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” Louis says immediately. “I just meant--if you--you said he’s an Alpha, right? If an Alpha likes someone, they’re not supposed to get other people to do this stuff for them. They talk to the person themselves. That’s what they do in the movies, at least. It’s, like, courting rules.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He should’ve known Louis wasn’t being mean. Louis is his best friend. “Well, I don’t mind. She’s my sister.”

Louis wonders aloud as he sticks his hand in Harry’s bag of chips, “She’s an Alpha, too, though, so maybe that’s why.”

Harry turns his chip bag so that Louis can get more out before he shrugs. There are a lot of weird rules about people liking other people and what they’re supposed to do and not to do. Harry’s glad he doesn’t have to worry about any of that yucky stuff. It’s too confusing. He thinks he’ll just worry about adding and subtracting numbers and trying to stay on the A-honor roll. And he always is, so that’s no problem at all.

The van finally arrives at Louis’ house, and Harry gleefully runs inside with Louis and Lottie while Austin takes his time getting Fizzy’s carseat out of the van.

Later that evening after dinner, Louis rips Seth’s notes into ten little pieces and flushes it down the toilet, saying Gemma shouldn’t like an idiot like him anyway because he’s dumb and can’t spell. Louis thinks it’s really funny, but Harry’s eyes are big and afraid for a long time.

“They’re gonna know, Lou,” he says in fear. “What if he talks to her at school?”

“Don’t worry. You didn’t do it, I did,” Louis answers. “If they say or do anything to do, I’ll stick up for you. I’m an Alpha, too.”

Harry grins. He’s never really thought of it that way. He rolls around on the bathroom rug with Louis and laughs and laughs and laughs. They take turn flushing weird things down the toilet, including the contents of a bottle of Coca-Cola, two screws and a nail (unsuccessful), and one of Fizzy’s pacifiers. “She has, like, a million,” Louis tells Harry when Harry bites his fingernails.

Harry and Louis don’t stop laughing until they get hollered at by Louis’ mother to quiet down because Fizzy is sleeping. Eventually, they fall asleep next to each other in Louis’ bed well past ten o’clock, Harry wearing Louis’ pajamas and a smile as he dozes off. The dreams Harry has that night are like swimming--happily floating around, weightless in water.


	2. one step closer

 

 **Nine and Eleven**  
**3rd/5th Grade**

When Harry’s nine, he practices how to ignore Alphas who are mean to him. On the bus, sometimes he gets stuff thrown at the back of his head, but it doesn’t make him as upset as it used to. It hurts him more when Zayn gets picked on because afterwards, Zayn always gets sulky and quiet. Normally, Harry can block it out and still be happy when it happens to him. When Alphas tug at the back of his hair in class, he just pretends he’s Rapunzel and everyone wants to touch his beautiful curly hair. When Alphas stick out their foot to trip him as he walks by, he imagines he’s exploring in the woods with Louis and forgot to see a root on the ground. Then he feel a lot better.

Sometimes the meanness really bothers him, though. After all, he is still the same sensitive Harry. He can only make-believe so much before he starts really feeling lousy.

As he’s crossing the monkey bars at recess one day, Harry feels hands wrap around his calf and pull on his leg. Shaking his foot around to kick the hand off causes him to lose his balance, and he shrieks as he falls to the ground. All the breath in his lungs gets caught up in his throat as his arm throbs in pain, even though it’s October and he’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt that should have helped pad the fall at least a little bit.

After brushing off bits of mulch stuck to his elbow, Harry winces as he looks up and sees a boy’s big, red face staring down at him. He can’t help but scowl. He’s very familiar with who it is.

The leader of Harry's third-grade class, the Alpha, Preston, always just does whatever he wants, and Harry tries his best to stay out of his way. Now, directly underneath the guy, Harry turns his head to the side to show some of his neck. He isn’t happy, but he isn’t supposed to challenge or agitate Alphas even if they are the ones who did something bad. After a few moments, Harry pushes himself up, stands up on his feet, and speedily walks away without saying anything.

“Hey!” Preston calls after Harry. “Stop!”

Harry keeps moving until he reaches the largest part of the play set. There’s a fireman’s pole beside him to get from the upper level to the ground, and a ladder and a rope to get to the top. Harry chooses to take the ladder. He has one foot on the bottom rung when Preston puts a hand on Harry's shoulder.

“Hey,” Preston says. “Where you going? I told you to stop.”

Even though an Alpha is telling him to do something, a voice in Harry’s head tells him to flee for some reason, so he climbs up the wooden ladder and panics the entire time, knowing Preston is right behind him. Preston grabs Harry's shirt and stretches it as Harry runs ahead.

“Stop!” Preston yells out again.

Harry runs faster and bumps into people's shoulders as he finds the slide and then quickly goes down it. On the ground again, he runs and runs and runs until he is off the mulch of the playground and into the grass. He finds Zayn there pulling up strands of clover mixed in with the grass to make a picture on top of the long, green blades. It looks like a house. Harry feels safer just being near him.

Preston stops just short of the grass behind Harry, and Harry stands panting as he stares at Preston’s feet. He just wants him to leave him alone. Luckily, just seconds later, Preston walks away.

Zayn watches as Preston spares one more glance at Harry from around his shoulder before finding his own group of friends by the swings. He quietly asks, “What’d you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Harry sulks as he sits on the ground. He tries not to cry. “Recess sucks. I can't even play.”

“Why not?”

“He’s always grabbing me! He grabs my arms and stuff when I’m near him. And he just pulled me off the monkey bars.” Harry swipes at his eyes. “It was very rude.”

“Cheer up, Harry. Maybe...Maybe he just likes you,” Zayn drawls. Sometimes he speaks just as slowly as Harry does. “Alphas are mean to omegas sometimes if they like them, I heard.”

Harry scoots closer to Zayn, still trying to catch his breath. “Why would he be mean to me if he likes me?”

Zayn shrugs. “That’s what my sister said. I think it's an Alpha thing. Like, they’re trying to get your attention.”

Harry makes a face. “That’s not smart. You should be nice to someone if you like them.”

“Yeah.” Zayn nods his head. “Alphas are stupid. But it could be worse. Did you know that yesterday Aiden Halloway put a melted chocolate bar in Alice’s seat and then she sat in it, and she had to go the whole day with it on the back of her pants?”

“That’s awful! We should ask Alice to be our friend.”

“Okay,” Zayn agrees.

Suddenly, Harry clenches his fists. “Alphas are so unfair! I hate it!”

“Isn’t your friend Louis an Alpha?”

“Yes,” Harry sniffs. “But he’s not a regular Alpha. He’s nice.”

“Cheer up,” Zayn says again. “Preston was only a little mean. I think when they’re just a little mean they like you.”

“I don’t care if he’s a little mean or a lot mean. I don’t like him. And if he likes me, I want to turn invisible! I want to turn invisible and play wherever I want and never have him bother me ever again.”

“We can be invisible,” Zayn urges. “We can be invisible whenever we want to so none of the Alphas can see us. Lay back with me.”

“Okay,” Harry says, giggling a bit. Zayn’s always been weird in the best way.

They both lay on their backs like starfish and stare at the clouds crossing the sun. It looks like a big silver oyster in a sky of water vapor, and underneath it, they’re invisible and happy.

 

* * *

 

“Stop hitting your sister,” Austin lightly scolds Louis while cleaning off the stove and countertops. Without lifting his head, he adds, “And don't roll your eyes. They’ll get stuck that way.”

“Lottie's throwing food at me,” Louis complains, looking ominously across the table at his sister. Trying to make his eyes flash, he squints. He accidentally did that once--flashed his eyes at someone in his class, bright red--but he hasn't been able to do it again on cue. He’s one of the only fifth-graders who can do it at all, though, so there’s that.

“Well, use your words and ask her to please stop,” Austin suggests.

Louis makes a long noise that sounds like, “Uhgghhhh.”

“Words are always better than violence, hon,” his mom tells him. She’s wearing scrubs and eating standing up because she’s about to go into work. “Soon you’ll have to learn that just because you’re an Alpha doesn’t mean you get to use it to have everything your way.”

“I don’t.” Louis rolls his eyes again. “Lottie, I'm using my words and asking you to stop.”

Lottie just giggles and throws another piece of bread at him, so Louis slams his fist on the table and growls at her. She drops the next piece of bread she’s preparing to throw, and, looking at her father, her face immediately reddens as she starts to cry. Austin, with Fizzy on his hip, rushes over to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Louis!” Jay admonishes in frustration. “I just told you, don't intimidate her! Lottie, you need to stop throwing food at your brother.”

Louis rests his head on his hand as he moves food around on his plate with his fork. “Can't we have Harry over for dinner one night? He's never around anymore.”

Jay ignores her son to lean over Lottie. “Stop playing with your food. I've already asked you once. Eat.”

“Why doesn’t he come over anymore, anyway?” Louis asks. “He used to come over all the time.”

“You two just went trick-or-treating together last week, Louis,” his mom says in amusement. “You know his mom works now, and sometimes she works into the evenings. It's hard for her to make time.” She takes a quick bite of her food and speaks as she’s chewing, “You’ve been pretty busy, yourself, young man.”

Louis sits up taller. “I made fifteen dollars last week.”

Jay looks surprised. “Mrs. Morris?”

“Mmhm. I took her groceries in for her and watered her plants. Every day.”

“The mums?”

“The what?”

“The ones that look like little puff-balls.”

“Yeah, those.”

Jay smiles and then takes the dinner roll out of Lottie's hands because she’s still tearing it up and throwing it on Louis’ plate. “Quite the entrepreneur.”

“Well, can't his dad bring him?” Louis asks, jumping right back to Harry. “He always comes home at the same time every day.”

“I suppose he could,” Jay lightly replies. “He has to drive in bad traffic all day long, though, so he doesn't like to drive more than he has to, I don't think.”

Louis would ask why Austin just can’t bring Harry, but he already knows the answer to that. Austin works part-time, has the girls to tend to, and is currently pregnant with twins. He’s been nauseous for three months straight because that’s what happens when omegas are pregnant, his mom says. He doesn’t really understand why omegas get sick when they’re pregnant because since they’re the ones that get pregnant the most, he would think they wouldn’t even do it if it made them sick. His mom says that when Alphas are pregnant, they don’t get sick.

“But Alphas can’t even get pregnant,” Louis had said to that because he’s never in his life seen an Alpha who’s pregnant. Then his mom just looked at him and countered, “I deliver babies all the time, Louis. I would know. Plus, I got pregnant with you.”

Louis doesn’t really understand that, either. But he does know that his real father was an Alpha just like his mom, so it has to have something to do with that. He’ll have to talk about it with Harry and look it up together because Harry has a lot of encyclopedias and books at his home. He’ll probably forget to even ask when he sees Harry, though.

“Well, you're always on the phone with Harry's mom,” Louis says to his mom, trying not to think of his real father because thinking of his real father gets him mad. “Ask her if Harry can come over Friday. We could pick him up after my game.”

“Oh, are you offering to drive?”

Louis’ eyes brighten excitedly. “Can I?”

“No way,” Austin answers. Even though his belly is swollen, he tries to bounce Fizzy up and down on his hip to soothe her fusses, but he gives up and passes her on to Jay so he can finish cleaning up.

Jay takes her daughter and smiles though Fizzy’s whining. “We could invite them over on Friday. That's a good idea. James and Jake’ll be over, then, too. We could have a pot luck.”

“I just mean Harry,” Louis says with food in his mouth. His uncles have been on vacation for a week down somewhere where it’s warm, and he’s excited about seeing them, but still. He honestly just cares about Harry.

“We're inviting all of them,” Jay corrects, “not just Harry.” She turns away from him to speak softly and slowly down to Fizzy. She’s beginning to really cry now--like, open-mouthed, red-in-the-face, screaming cry. It bothers Louis’ ears.

“Dad!” Lottie screams. “Louis put ketchup all over my carrots!”

“Well, do the same to him,” Austin says distractedly. He looks tired.

Lottie kicks Louis’ shin under the table, and Louis bangs his fist on the table. “MOM! Lottie just kicked me!”

He kicks Lottie back before throwing every piece of bread she’d thrown at him back in her face. She starts to wail.

Louis laughs. Austin sighs. Jay covers Fizzy’s ears. Putting a deep Alpha timbre in her voice, she orders her children to be quiet this instant. When their ears ring, they look at her in fear--even Louis--and they obey. After Louis quickly finishes eating, he takes over cleaning up the kitchen because he can tell his mom and Austin are really tired.

 

* * *

 

“You’re so weak,” Gemma grunts with her arm wrapped around Harry’s neck. She’s playing around, but if she really wanted to, she could probably squeeze a little bit harder and really hurt Harry since she’s gotten so strong this year. She would never do that, though. She plants her knees more into the carpet and uses half her body weight to press him up against the wall instead.

“I’m stronger than you are, I’m stronger than you are,” she sings, only a little out of breath. She flicks a bare spot of skin on Harry’s arm with her free hand. “Weak. I bet I could throw you down the stairs!”

Harry bellows, struggling against Gemma’s hold and kicking his feet at her kneecaps. They’re all twisted up like a pretzel now. “Stop being so mean to me,” he grunts before falling down to the carpet to escape her hold.

“Never!” she boldly declares, easily pushing him to the wall again. Her arm remains around his neck, and she laughs as his face scrunches up in the struggle of fighting back. It’s so fun to play-fight with Harry. He’s such an easy target. He’s always willing to do it, too, like maybe this time he’ll actually win or something. If they’re at a table together--any table, anywhere--all she has to do is rest her arm on it, lift her forearm up, and Harry’s immediately down to arm-wrestle. He loses every time.

“Zayn said if Alphas are mean to me, then they like me!” Harry yells as he continues to try squirming out of her hold. He’s prepared for her to wrestle back with more force, so he starts hitting her arms and pulling at the one around his neck. He’s so out of breath his sentences are choppy. “So---joke’s on--you! Meanie! I know you--like me!”

Gemma has her free hand on Harry's face, pushing it away, but she removes all contact with Harry after what he says.

“Wait. What?” she asks.

Both on the carpet still, Harry climbs back on top of Gemma and is surprised when she lets him pin her arms down to the floor. “You like me--you love me!! You looove me, you loooove me--You big loser!”

“Harry, shut up.” Gemma looks serious. She easily pushes him off. “Who's being mean to you?”

“You looove me--huh?”

She sits up. “Who's being mean to you?”

Harry’s smile drops. “No one.”

“Liar,” she accuses. “You're such a bad liar. Your heart goes all crazy when you lie.”

Harry stands up. “Stop listening to my heart!”

“Well, it's kind of hard when it's so freakin’ loud,” she grumbles, standing up next to Harry, as well. She towers him. “Who's being mean to you?”

Harry fixes his shirt. “No one, gosh.”

“Only I'm allowed to be mean to you. Who is it? Is it Louis?”

Harry awkwardly looks away and shakes his head. He hasn’t seen Louis in forever. “No.”

“It is! I'm gonna totally beat him up. That complete jerk--”

“It's not Louis!”

“But your heart got slower when I asked.”

“I can't help what my heart does!” Harry yells as he stomps down the stairs. “Stop listening to it, you freak!”

Gemma pursues. “Did he do something to you? Why’re you sad now?”

Harry walks into the kitchen because he has nowhere else to go. “I'm not sad.”

“Uh, yeah you are.”

“Are you listening to my feelings now?”

“You don't listen to people’s feelings, Harry. You sense them.”

Harry frowns. He can only sense people’s feelings if they’re mad. He feels like Gemma knows too much about him now that she’s gone to middle school and has gotten all Alpha-y.

“So, since you’re obviously sad and you’re saying weird stuff about how Alphas like you if they’re mean to you, I want to know where you’re getting your information.”

“Why do you care?” Harry asks, breezing by Gemma again. He picks his backpack up from off the floor as he walks into the living room.

“Stop walking away from me!” she yells loudly. On his way to the couch, Harry freezes, and his lower lip drops just a bit. “Don’t--stop. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to yell. Don’t cry. Just tell me why you said that.”

“Because,” Harry mumbles, sitting down on the sofa. Dusty immediately jumps up with him, and Harry carts his fingers through his soft fur. “I told you already. That’s what Zayn said. It doesn’t even matter.”

“It does matter. Zayn’s wrong. If someone's mean to you, they're jerks. And if they’re mean to you again, you tell them that they can deal with me.”

Harry gasps. “I’m not gonna tell an Alpha that,” he answers with wide eyes. “You’re in middle school anyway.”

Gemma shrugs easily. “I’ll walk to your school and hunt them down. What’s their name?”

Harry opens his backpack and takes out his workbook as Dusty jumps off the couch to rub against Harry’s calves. Harry’s moody when Gemma sits next to him, staring him down.

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll tell him your big Alpha warning. Just go away. I need to do my homework.”

“So it’s a guy. What’s his name? And tell me why you’re sad about Louis. Do I need to talk to him, too?”

“Go away!”

“What did he do to you?”

“We barely even see each other anymore,” Harry groans. “How could he have done something?” He sticks his tongue out at his sister and begins writing in his notebook. His mom always tells him to sit at a desk or table when he has work to do, but it’s always just as neat when he does it on his lap.

Gemma rolls her eyes. “We're literally going to his house in two days for dinner! Now would you tell me what that guy’s name is?!”

Harry jerks his head to Gemma so fast it hurts his neck. “We are?! How do you know? How come no one told me? No one ever tells me stuff, and he’s my best friend!”

Gemma sits back slowly and, almost evilly, a smile breaks out across her face.

 

* * *

 

At dinner later that week, it’s like Harry and Louis haven’t even spent any time apart even though Harry knows it’s been a long time. They have a lot to catch up on. As utensils are heard scraping plates, Louis and Harry have a conversation of their own at the end of the table. His mother always says it looks like they’re conspiring together, but Harry forgets what that word means.

“How’s your new school?” Jay asks Gemma. She’s sitting at the end of the table, and she likes to talk to everyone individually.

“Big,” Gemma answers, smiling politely. “But it’s okay. I like it.”

Austin’s cutting up bits of foot for Fizzy. He hasn’t touched his own food yet. “Met anybody you like yet?”

Gemma shrugs. “Not really.”

After swallowing her food, Anne smiles. “She’s actually talking to a really nice boy named Seth right now.”

Under the table, Louis steps on Harry’s foot, and together they share a look and try not to laugh.

“Mom,” Gemma groans. “Shut up.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Des speaks up.

Before Anne’s face can turn any more red, Louis’ mother quickly steers the conversation to another topic. Louis gets to talk about sports, this time to the entire table because his mom tells him so, and then Harry talks about what he’s learning in all his favorite classes, and then Louis’ uncle James talks about something called med school.

Afterwards, when most of the grown-ups eat dessert and watch a college football game on television, Harry and Louis go outside to climb a big tree. Louis’ dog Ted watches from the big pile of fallen leaves below.

Harry ends up climbing higher up than Louis does, but it’s just ‘cause Louis spends his time walking out on every limb before climbing up to the next one. Normally Louis is the fast one and Harry is the one who’s slow. Everything Harry reads about omegas say they’re supposed to be fast, but he doesn’t think anything about omegas really fits him. Even though he’s still treated like an omega at school. But he guesses that’s okay. He did manage to escape Preston earlier this week. He hates to admit that it was probably just because he was lucky. Most omegas would be able to get away much, much quicker than he did.

Harry’s definitely not as strong as Louis, so that part about being an omega fits him. Louis has always been the stronger one, the braver one. Hanging upside down from a branch, he swings his upper body back and forth with just his the weight of his legs. Harry won’t dare try that, but he smiles at Louis while he watches. Other people would probably make fun of him for being afraid of doing it himself, but Louis is accepting. That’s why he’s Harry’s best friend.

Back inside, Harry's hands smell like sap. He presses them in front of Louis’ face as they walk into the kitchen, and Louis leans forward and licks them.

“Eww, what are you doing! They're all sticky!” Harry screeches, laughing.

“It tastes good.” Louis says. “Like syrup!” He leans his head back in and licks all over Harry's hand as Harry giggles.

Austin clears his throat from the doorway as he enters the room, carrying dirty dishes and putting them in the sink. His stomach’s kind of large, so it’s hard for him to bend down to the dishwasher. Jay follows behind him, and then Jay’s brother, James, after that. Harry immediately goes into the dining room and helps cleaning up, too, because he feels bad for making a mess and not picking up after himself.

“Can Harry stay the night, Mom? It's not a school night.”

“Hold on,” she mutters, transferring all the dishes from the sink in the dishwasher.

“Pleease?”

In the dining room, Harry can hear Louis’ voice. He gets excited and looks to his mother. “Can I, Mom?”

“Harry, I'm sure she has her hands full already--”

“No, she doesn’t,” Harry insists. “She loves me staying here.”

Anne laughs at that, but she sighs. “Ask your father.”

Harry’s dad says no, and Harry doesn’t say anything more after that, not to anyone. When he and his parents and sister get to the front door, he looks sadly at Louis.

Jay chooses her words carefully as she says goodbye. “If you think it would be a burden to us or something, it’s really fine that he stays. We really don’t mind.”

Anne looks to Des, but he doesn’t respond. Anne nods her head. “I just wouldn’t want to cause too much stress, you know, since Austin’s pregnant--”

“No, really! We love having Harry over. We’ve missed him. I’m off work tomorrow, too, so he can stay all day if he wants.”

Harry looks to Louis and grins, and Louis and Harry both cross their fingers so the grown-ups can’t see. Anne puts her hand on Harry’s mop of hair and ruffles it. After a look at Harry’s father, she turns to Jay and smiles.

“Okay, then,” she agrees. “Well, I’ll run home and get him some pajamas and stuff--”

“Oh, he can wear Louis’ clothes, no big deal.” She pauses and looks at Des. “If that’s okay with you?”

Des shrugs. Anne smiles. “Sure.”

“Bye, loser,” Gemma says to Harry, walking outside into the cold air ahead of her parents. Harry gives both of his parents big, big hugs, and then runs off to play with Louis when his mom and dad stand by the door talking to Louis’ parents for a long time.

“I've missed spending the night with you,” Harry says at nighttime, happily sighing when he sinks back into Louis’ bed. He’s wearing too-big clothes that make him feel little and cozy, and the house is warm and smells like candles.

Louis jumps on the bed like a frog, and Ted jumps up after him. He’s huge and thinks he’s small. “Me too. I'm so glad my mom said you could stay over.”

“Me too!” Harry kicks his feet around happily, laughing when Ted licks his face. “What should we do? Wanna play a game?”

Louis stands up on the bed. He holds a popsicle to his mouth, and the entire outside of his lips are stained red from it. “We should build a fort.”

Harry giggles. Ted is wagging his tail loudly, and it’s making a thumping noise on Harry’s leg. “Mkay,” he agrees. He rolls over onto his belly and, immediately, a really bad odor hits his nose. He tries not to wrinkle up his face in disgust. “Oh, what’s that smell?”

Louis pauses. “What smell? Ted, c’mere, boy, c’mere.” The dog happily jumps up from where he’s still licking Harry’s face, and Louis sticks his nose in Ted’s fur and shakes his head. “I don’t smell anything.” Still, he snaps his fingers and points to the ground. “Down.”

Ted jumps off the bed straight away, and Louis sits back down on the comforter. Frowning, he lifts up an arm and smells underneath. “I swear I showered before you came over.”

Harry sits up. “You shower?”

“No, never,” Louis says, shaking his head and laughing. He puts his popsicle back in his mouth and smiles around it.

Harry smiles sheepishly. “I meant, like, instead of taking a bath.”

“Nah, I don’t take baths anymore. My sisters do, though. Together, like me and you used to do when we were little. Remember?”

“Yeah.” Of course he does. It was like, last year. Harry shakes his head, still kind of confused by the smell. It’s faded a bit, but it’s still in his nose. “So how can we build the fort? What’s there to use?”

“Oh, I'll do it. We have extra sheets in a closet downstairs. I’ll get them, then you hold the sheets at the bottom and I'll stick tacks in the top of them to stick ‘em to the ceiling.”

It turns out to be more like a canopy over the bed when they’re finished. It’s pretty cool. Louis is proud of the way it turned out. He and Harry spend a lot of time jumping up and down underneath it until Harry’s stomach growls and Louis goes downstairs to get him a piece of cake from the dessert that Harry didn’t touch and another popsicle for himself.

Louis got a cellphone this year, and he looks at it the entire time Harry eats. It’s a pretty huge piece of cake, so it takes Harry forever to finish. When he’s about halfway done, he rolls over on his side to look at Louis. There’s that bad smell again, but he ignores it. “Hey, Lou?”

Louis’ eyes are glued to the screen of his phone. “Huh?”

“How come you're always gone when I come over after school?”

Louis looks up from his phone. “What? When do you come over?”

“All the time! Well, I used to. Like, when I know you don’t have practice or something. Your dad always answers the door and says you're not home.”

“He's not my dad.”

“Oops,” Harry says with his mouth full. “Sorry.”

“Well, I guess he is my dad, but anyway. He never tells me you come by!”

“Only sometimes. But you’re never here. Why’re you always gone?”

“I'm not always gone. But I do stuff for the neighbors a lot, I guess.” He throws his phone to the side. “Mrs. Morris--she's the one with the cactuses that you fell into that one time--down the road there--” he points ahead-- “she doesn’t have a real hip. She can barely walk. So I help her out. I carry in her groceries and stuff.”

Cake falls out of Harry’s mouth. “She doesn’t have a real hip?”

Louis laughs at the look on Harry’s face. “No, it's fake.”

“What’s it made of?”

“I don't know,” Louis laughs again. “I don't know what it is.”

“Is it like a robot leg?”

“Yeah, Harry, she’s a robot,” Louis keeps laughing with Harry. Harry giggles and smashes icing from his cake on Louis’ face, so Louis does the same thing back. Soon they’re full-on cake-fighting with one another, and every time Louis smears icing over a bit of Harry’s skin, he makes little robot noises. After their fight moves to the carpet and they’re all out of cake, they have to go to the bathroom to clean up. That turns into a water-fight, though, and it’s ages before they go back to Louis’ bedroom.

When they do, they’re buzzing from sugar but quickly crashing. Their laughter dies down, and Harry yawns. “You need to be home more,” Harry says, stretching. “That robot lady needs to stop buying so many groceries.”

“I’m not always there,” Louis retorts, yawning, as well. “I do other stuff, too. Down the street even farther--way far--is this other woman, and she and her Alpha have a zillion dogs. So I walk them if it’s not raining. And then there's this really sick girl next door named Marah who has no hair, and she has no one to play with because she can't go to school, so I play with her sometimes. And then Cal and Stan and Oli live around here, too, so I play with them, too.”

Harry pulls the covers up to his chin. “You have time to do all that and still get your homework done?”

“Yup,” Louis brags. He wiggles around underneath the covers. “And sports.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Louis says with a shrug, but his body glows in the praise from Harry. “But I would come right home if I knew you were here! Next time, get Austin to call me ‘cause I’ve got a phone now. You should get one, too.”

Louis leans over and punches his pillow before laying his head down and looking at Harry, almost expectantly. His eyes are misty like how they get when he’s tired but fighting it.

Harry sniffs the air and frowns. He knows his parents can’t afford to get him a phone. He’s little, anyway. Gemma would be the first to get one, then he would have to get that one when it was old or broken or something. His head sags more into the pillow thinking about how his parents are always complaining about money, then suddenly, he turns his head and sniffs the pillow he’s resting on.

“I think I figured out what that smell is! I think it's...I think it’s the pillows.”

Louis lifts his head up. “Huh?”

“I mean--oops, sorry for being rude, but. It smells...the sheets smell different.” Harry doesn’t say stinky, but he wants to.

Louis smells his pillow. “I still don’t smell anything.”

Harry offers the pillow under his own head to Louis, and Louis sniffs that next. “Oh! Oli slept in the bed last week, and Austin just hasn't changed my sheets yet.”

“Oh.” Harry slowly puts the pillow back under his head. That’s strange. Harry used to be the only other omega that Louis had sleepovers with. He closes his eyes, and in two seconds, he’s rubbing his face all over the pillowcase.

“What are you doing, weirdo?” Louis pokes Harry's side.

“Getting rid of the smell.”

Louis watches silently and loudly yawns. “I could just get new sheets. Want me to?” He looks up. “Wanna use the ones from the fort?”

When Harry’s finished, he turns on his side facing away from Louis. “No,” he declines quietly. “It’s okay. I think I made it go away.”

“Good.”

Louis shifts a bit on the bed until he’s right behind Harry. “Now you smell funny. What’s the matter?”

Harry shakes his head.

“Are you sick?”

“No,” Harry answers. “I'm not sick.”

Louis rolls Harry over so he’s on his back again. “You smell like sick people smell.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow. “I'm not sick!”

“Well, what's wrong, then? Did you eat too much?”

“No. I just think I’m tired now.”

Louis stares into Harry's eyes for a long time. He sounds as serious as a fifth-grader can when he says, “Tell me what's the matter,” and then suddenly, Harry feels liquified, like he’s melting into the bed in a giant puddle.

“Whoa!” Louis suddenly exclaims. He grabs Harry’s shoulders. “Harry! Your eyes!”

Harry blinks. “What about them?”

“They just turned blue! Like mine but--but brighter! Then they turned back to green. How did you do that?”

Harry sits up and runs to Louis’ dresser. In the semi-dark room, it’s hard to see, but Harry knows where everything is by heart. There’s a big mirror atop the dresser, and the sides of it are covered with memorabilia--baseball cards, pictures of Louis’ family members, some movie tickets, photos of Harry himself. All types of stuff. Harry leans in close and focuses on his reflection in the middle.

“They look normal to me.”

Louis rushes beside him and looks in the mirror, too. “Well, now they do. It went away.”

“My eyes really changed color?”

Louis nods. “Mine turn red sometimes like my mom’s, but it goes away in, like, a second.”

“Gemma's do that, too.”

“Yours must be some type of omega thing, then! Harry, that's so cool.”

Harry leans in closer to the mirror and makes his eyes comically wide. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Louis swears.

“I've never seen my mom’s eyes turn blue. I didn’t know omegas could do that. It’s not in any of my books.”

“Aren't hers already blue? Maybe you just don't notice it.”

“Maybe. Have you ever seen Austin’s eyes turn blue before? He’s an omega.”

“Nuh uh,” Louis denies. “Never. And Oli’s an omega, and I've never seen his eyes turn blue like that, either. Maybe it only does it when you’re sleepy then, ‘cause you just said you’re tired. Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Harry frowns and looks down. Louis has lots of older friends. Of course he does, though. Of course he has friends who are in his own grade. Harry doesn’t even know why Louis still wants to hang out with some third-grader. He probably feels sorry for him because he doesn’t have any other real friends except for Zayn.

Louis turns his body to Harry. There’s a look of triumph on his face as he snaps his fingers. “You don't like Oli!”

Dragging his feet back to the bed, Harry doesn’t look at Louis. “What are you talking about?”

“That's why you smell like that. Why don't you like Oli?”

“I never said I don't like him.” Harry lifts the covers and burrows around again. “I don't even know him.”

“I'll introduce you two, then. You'll like him a lot. He’s Calvin’s cousin. He likes soccer and football just like you do. And you’re both omegas.”

“Yeah.”

It’s really nice that Louis wants to introduce Harry to his friends, but really, it’s just a giant reminder to Harry that in the fall, Louis will be going to middle school, and Harry won’t be able to be in the same school with him for two entire years. Unless his principal says he can pass a grade. Then it would just be one more year. But still.

Harry pushes the pillow with Oli’s stale smell on it onto the carpet when Louis isn’t looking, and as he closes his eyes and goes to sleep, he thinks of happy things and tries to feel a little bit better.

 

**Ten and Twelve**

**4th/6th Grade**

Besides Louis, the first Alpha who is ever nice to Harry (besides his sister and Louis’ mom) is a boy named Niall.

In fourth grade, Harry has to switch classes for different subjects. He’s used to sitting in the same class all day long and being taught all the subjects by the same teacher, but now that he’s older, he gets to go to different rooms for Math, Science, English, and A/B/O Studies. That means he has four different teachers (five if you count his homeroom teacher that he stays with for everything else, and ten if you count his Library, Gym, Art, Music, and Computer teachers he sees once a week) and tons of chances to meet lots of new people in his different classes. Luckily for Harry, he sits next to the nicest Alpha in the entire fourth grade, a blonde boy with permanently rosy cheeks named Niall. He’s just moved to the area from California, which is a state that’s really, really far away. Harry feels bad for Niall because that’s an awful big change to move across the entire country.

“What’s California like?” Harry asks Niall while they’re copying their textbook definitions from a big, green book titled “Science: A Closer Look.” The teacher is on the other side of the room behind her desk and doesn’t care if people talk quietly, just as long as they do their work.

“‘S cool,” Niall replies. “I mean, it’s different everywhere you go. But where I’m from it’s nice. Real hot.”

“It must be hard being so far away, huh?”

“My dad works for the government, so we’ve moved before. I’m used to it. This is where we’re gonna stay, though, since he just got a big job.”

“I’m sorry.”

Niall looks confused. “What for?”

“All your family must be really far away.”

“Oh, I love it here!” Niall exclaims. He realizes he’s been loud and looks around before continuing more quietly, “I’ve got family everywhere, anyway. We meet up once a year at, like, reunions. I got some people in Oregon, Maine, some family in Florida...” He shrugs. “But just me, my brother, and my mom and my dad live here now. It’s totally cool, though.”

“Oh,” Harry says. He’s writing something down about precipitation, and when he’s done, he points out Zayn to Niall. “That’s my best friend, Zayn. You can sit with us at lunch today if you want.”

Niall does. He doesn’t sit with them all the time, though, because it turns out he makes lots of new friends very easily, and he always sits with different people every day, even if they’re not even in his homeroom class. That makes his teacher say things to him, but he’s an Alpha, so Harry guesses that’s why he gets away with it.

With Louis being at middle school, things are sort of different because Harry doesn’t see him around the building anymore, but it’s still okay. He didn’t see him all that much in school, anyway. It was always nice to think about going to Louis if anyone was being mean, though, but he guesses maybe if something really bad happens in the future, he could go to Niall now. Besides, Harry still gets to see Louis sometimes on the weekends because their mothers are such good friends. But like Harry predicted, it’s not nearly as much as it was when they were both in elementary school. Harry just concentrates on his homework and tries to be a good friend to Zayn and Niall.

Niall’s not allowed to visit Zayn’s house because he’s an Alpha, but Harry’s mom lets him come over to his. Niall can even play a few songs on the guitar like an old one called Smoke on the Water. Zayn and Harry learn the words to it and sing while Niall strums the guitar, and Harry’s dad doesn’t even get mad when they’re being loud since he likes the song so much.

 

* * *

 

After the longest school year in existence, Louis is extremely happy when it’s spring break. He goes to his grandmother’s house on Easter Sunday and eats with the entire extended family. All of his relatives can’t even fit into one picture, they’re so many of them.

On the other days, when he’s not eating his little sister’s candy from their easter baskets or playing with Cal or Stan outside, he either catches up on doing some work for Mrs. Morris, helps take care of his new twin sisters, or sleeps. He sleeps a lot. So much it makes him question why he’s so tired all the time, but it’s a question that’s not too hard to answer. He’s in middle school now. School is harder now. He deserves this week to sleep and do nothing.

Even though he sleeps a lot during the day, he still sleeps at night, too. He considers the extra naps just catch-up sleep. He’s never been one to not be able to sleep throughout the entire night, so on the last day of his break, he wonders why he’s unable to get back to sleep when, for four hours, he was snoozing and off in Dreamland.

It’s midnight now, and his sheets feel heavy on his body. He’s angry, so he kicks them off like they’ve just said something nasty to him. He doesn’t know why he’s so angry, but he is. He hates everything. Everyone. He just - hates. He’s not normally this moody, not even at school when his teachers nag and tell him what to do. “Stop talking, Louis,” and “Stop fidgeting in your seat, Louis,” and “Repeat what I just said, Louis.”

Middle school teachers are so aggravating, and he’s found that this year he’s been more angry at them than he ever was with his elementary school teachers. Thinking about going back to school to deal with them tomorrow is probably what’s making him so mad.

But, still. He normally doesn’t wake up in the middle of the night so angry. Or, well, never. He never wakes up angry. He never wakes up in the middle of the night at all.

After another half-hour of punching his pillows and throwing his body back and forth on the mattress, Louis gives up on sleep and storms out of his bedroom. A late night comedian’s television show plays quietly downstairs, and he hears his mother’s stifled laughter, like she wants to be louder but can’t. He feels like he can hear everything in the house, like his hearing is supersonic or something, and his ringing ears are making his head hurt.

This house may be old as dirt, but his mother had it well insulated when Louis was, like, four. He shouldn’t be able to hear noises from downstairs. Still, he can, and he can even smell his mother, too. She smells fuzzy, like someone really tired but whose mind won’t shut off. He can smell his dog sleeping in the doggy bed by the washer and dryer, in desperate need of a bath but no one will do it, and his sisters--Lottie, like chocolate and Fizzy, like ...lotion?--and Austin sleeping downstairs, and even his uncles sleeping even farther down in the basement.

Louis shakes his head. How can he even smell these things? He’s an Alpha, but that’s--that’s too much for one person to smell.

It confuses him, but he’s still angry. Little flickers of rage jolt through his body, and it’s almost frightening how mean he feels. Now that he knows his mom is awake, he begins to walk to her. Halfway down the stairs, he pauses. He knows why she’s awake: his twin sisters, just infants, are somewhere beside her, sleeping, too. Still, he goes into the den anyway and throws his body on the sofa beside her. He says nothing.

His mom looks at the clock and places her hand on Louis’ forehead. She whispers, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Louis crosses his arms and stares at Conan O’Brien in disgust. He hates Conan O’Brien. He isn’t even funny.

“Why do you watch this crap?”

“I like it. Sorry to wake you, though. I’ll turn it off.”

“I didn’t say you had to turn it off,” he snaps.

She raises an eyebrow and presses her hand to his face again, this time feeling his cheeks and both sides of his neck with the back of her hand.

“Oh, goodness...Your lymph nodes are swollen.”

He shakes her hand off of his neck. “I can’t sleep,” he complains. “It’s hot in this house. You need to get the air conditioner looked at.”

“Louis, it’s the beginning of April.”

She turns off the television and stands. After looking to the side of the couch where two electronic swings carrying Phoebe and Daisy sway back and forth in unison, she whispers to Louis, “Come with me. Be quiet, now, Austin just fed your sisters and they’re not all the way asleep yet.”

Louis follows his mother to the kitchen reluctantly. Though he’s wide awake and can’t sleep, he feels lethargic. It’s the strangest thing feeling energized and tired at the same time. He must be getting sick. He almost feels like his vision is going spotty just from walking, kind of like standing up too quickly in the morning and blacking out, so he knows something’s the matter. Maybe he needs to go to the hospital.

His mom rustles a bunch of items around in a corner cabinet before returning to Louis and putting a blue pill in the palm of his hand. “Take this,” she instructs.

Louis blinks. “What is it?”

“It’ll help you sleep,” she answers.

Somehow, even in the dimness of the room, Louis notices she looks and smells worried. He narrows his eyes. “Are you poisoning me?”

“Yes.”

He rolls his eyes. “Mom. Why do you look like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m sick but you’re not telling me what’s wrong! Do I need to go to the doctor? I’ve been tired all week.”

She doesn’t answer. She gets a clear glass from a cabinet, presses it to the refrigerator, and fills it with water.

“I like ice,” Louis comments.

His mom stares at him. “Try rephrasing that.”

Louis huffs. “Could you put ice in it, too?”

She still stares blankly at him.

“Please?”

She opens the freezer, pulls out two ice cubes, and drops them quietly in the glass before setting it down on the kitchen table. “Since you can’t sleep anyway, sit down with me. We’ll have a chat and then you can take your medicine and get to sleep.”

Louis plods his heavy body in the chair across from his mother and rests his head on the table. He feels like he has a hard knot in his stomach, and it’s hard to concentrate on his mom’s voice. But he does. He wants to know what’s wrong because he’s starting to worry he’s got cancer. Blurry vision. Weird heart-rate. Random headaches sometimes, like now. Exhaustion. His uncle James talks about this stuff all the time. It’s cancer.

After talking with his mom for over an entire half hour, Louis realizes that he definitely does not have cancer, and he very much wishes he could’ve just remembered to actually take notes in health class. He takes the pill his mother offers him and scurries upstairs, wanting to die.

He ends up having very weird dreams that night, but at least he gets to sleep.

He also avoids his mom for no less than two weeks. He always feels like he can talk to her about anything, but hearing “heat cycles” and “ruts” and “your body is changing” come from her mouth is really freaking weird.

 

 **Eleven and Thirteen**  
**5th/7th Grade**

When Harry is eleven and school has just ended, Louis’ mother throws a big party for her brother, James. Harry has seen him many times at cookouts and parties throughout the years, and Harry thinks he’s very nice. Harry knows that James and his mate, Jacob, work together at an office near Louis’ house, and sometimes they just sleep there because their work is so close. There are so many rooms in Louis’ house that Jacob and James have a special one all to themselves in the basement.

Jacob is very nice, too. Harry can’t remember the name of his job, but he sits across from people while they talk to him about their problems. He’ll play soccer outside with Louis and Harry sometimes. Sometimes even football. James has always been a bit more quiet than Jacob, but he’s still nice. He’s also very helpful and strong. He helps Louis’ mom with stuff around the house, like moving furniture and fixing things.

James works a lot. Almost always, he’s in an outfit when Harry sees him, like the kind that Louis’ mom wears--scrubs. He’s also been in college for as long as Harry can remember. Now he’s graduating --even though Harry thinks he’s already graduated college before--and it’s a Very Important Thing. Louis’ mom is throwing a party tonight to celebrate his success. Lots of people will be there. Harry wants to look nice.

Harry ruffles through all the clothes in his closet, which aren’t much. Off to the very right, there’s a button-up shirt Harry wears for special occasions hanging all by itself so it won’t get wrinkly. As he takes it off the hanger, he presses his nose to it and smiles. It somehow still smells like laundry detergent.

Down in the living room, Gemma taps her foot. “What's taking him so long?” she whines. “I won't have any time to hang out with Louis’ cousins before dinner if he doesn't hurry up. They were gonna do my nails.”

With her thumb, Anne wipes off a bit of lipstick from Gemma's face that Gemma’s put on off-mark. Gemma has begun wearing makeup now. Everyone is growing up so fast.

“Be patient. He's just getting dressed.”

After long moments of staring at his reflection in front of the mirror, Harry walks down the hall and holds the flowers he’d picked earlier in the evening tightly in his hands. Gemma’s mouth drops.

“You're wearing that?” Gemma looks to her mom. “Mom, did we have to dress up?”

“No,” Anne replies, smiling. “Harry just wanted to look nice.”

“You look like you're about to take school photos or something, kid,” Gemma laughs, ruffling the mop of hair on the side of Harry's head. Clearly he’s tried to comb down his curls and has failed.

Harry pushes her hands away and touches his hair self-consciously. “Stoppit!”

Gemma looks at Harry funny. “Okay, weirdo... You're so odd sometimes, honestly.”

“You're the one with makeup on! Who cares if I don’t want you to touch my hair!”

“Excellent point, Harry,” his mom says. She tries to hide her smile from her impatient husband waiting by the door with keys in his hands before looking around and quickly asking, “Got everything we need? Let's go.”

The family of four packs into the station wagon and are off.

“Don't see why you helped him pick those flowers anyway,” Des grumbles so no one but Anne can hear as he starts the car. “Now the whole flower bed is empty.”

Anne shifts her eyes to the backseat. She’s glad her son seems to have selective hearing. “It's nice to bring the host of a party a gift. It's good manners.”

“Right,” Des replies, “when you're an eleven-year-old child and the host is a mated adult.”

“It doesn't mean anything,” Anne says quietly. “It's just practice.”

Des just sighs. “I don't think I'm ready for this yet.”

“But with Gemma it was fine? No big deal?”

“What are you two talking about?” Gemma asks from the backseat. She doesn’t get an answer.

She looks to her left where Harry’s clutching the flowers’ stems in one hand and shielding the petals from the mild wind blowing in from the window with his other. Gemma acts like she’s going to pluck off a petal just to pick on Harry, but Harry squeals.

“Stop! You'll ruin it!”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Why are you even so worried?”

“Because,” Harry sulks. “Don't touch it.”

“Jeez, what is with you tonight,” she mutters.

It’s a short drive, as always. Harry knows it well. Louis only lives a few neighborhoods over, but what a difference those few miles make. The houses they pass are over twice as large, maybe even three times as large, as Harry’s. He’s never seen any one-story houses where Louis lives. And they all have their own yards. Big yards. It’s always been the most perfect place to go on Halloween.

Louis told Harry a long time ago that the reason they lived in that house was because of his great-grandma or something. It used to be her home, and she left the family with lots of money when she died. Harry realizes he’s never really asked anything about her or what she did to have so much money. He can’t remember if Louis has ever told him before.

Harry doesn’t remember a lot, actually. He doesn’t even remember arriving at Louis’ house until he finds himself already standing on the porch. He looks at his shoulder. His mom’s hand rests there softly.

“All right, sweetie, why don't you ring the doorbell?”

As if on the other side waiting for them, Louis immediately opens the door and beams. His soccer team will finally be complete now that Harry’s there.

“Oh, are those for Mom?” he asks, noticing Harry's flowers. “She's in the kitchen, c’mon.”

Louis makes to grab Harry's makeshift-bouquet, but Harry quickly moves his hands out of the way before Louis takes it.

“They're not for your mom,” Harry says to the floor.

“Huh?” Louis just looks confused. Then he notices Harry's khakis and dress-shirt. “Why’re you dressed like that?”

Harry continues to look at his feet. Louis’ uncle and his mate walk into the foyer and greet the guests, shaking Des’ hand and hugging Anne. Harry waits to be noticed.

“Hello, Harry,” James said kindly. He’s got a deep voice. He’s very tall.

“Hello,” Harry replies shyly, holding up his flowers.

Anne explains, “Harry brought you something.”

“Oh, for me?” James asks. He chuckles.

Harry nods his head.

James crouches down to receive his gift. “Well, these have got to be the prettiest flowers I've ever seen. I know just the place for them.”

Behind James, his omega, Jacob, stands looking a little unamused. James approaches him and smiles. “Stop being grumpy.”

“And so it begins,” Jacob says under his breath, smiling and shaking his head. Des clears his throat.

Off to the side, Louis watches in confusion. Harry’s acting weird. Everyone’s acting weird. He steps in front of his uncle and tries to regain Harry's attention. “So are you playing with us? We've been waiting on you.”

Harry looks down again and then back up to James. “I don't want to get my clothes dirty.”

“Oh…” Louis frowns. “Gemma, would you play with us then? We need another man.”

“I'm not a man.”

“You know what I mean.”

Gemma shakes her head and walks inside past the adults. “I'm gonna find your cousin. She said she'd paint my nails next time I came over.”

Louis sighs. “Fine. Harry, are you sure you--”

But Harry is already following James and Jacob, who’re off to find a vase in the kitchen to put the flowers in. Louis runs to them.

“Harry, we don't even have to play soccer, we can just go outside! You won't get dirty. C’mon, let’s go! Everyone's already out there! Stan and Calvin and Oli came, too!” he exclaims excitedly.

“I don't think I want to,” Harry says quietly. Louis’ friends are nice to him, but he doesn't want to see them. A few months ago, Louis’ family took Harry and Louis’ friends into the city to see a hockey game, and Harry tripped going up one of the steps of the big arena. Nobody laughed at him, but still. He bet it embarrassed Louis. “I want to stay inside.”

“Hi, Harry!” Jay greets from behind the center island where she’s putting out cheeses and crackers and fruits.

“Do you keep vases in here?” James asks his sister.

“They’re in the same place they’ve always been,” Jacob mutters. “We’ve practically lived here for years, and you never know where anything is.”

James grunts. “You move stuff around.”

Jay laughs at her brother. “They’re under the sink. Did you get some flowers, Doctor Poulston?”

“I did get flowers. Harry picked them out all on his own for me,” James answers with a wink. He and Jay share a secret smile.

“How sweet,” Jay tells Harry. “That was nice of you, Harry.” She looks past Harry to smile at his parents as they enter the room. “So good to see you two again! Des, I feel like it's been forever since you've been over.”

“Yeah, well, work and all. Like what you've done to the place,” Des makes small-talk, looking around with his hands in his pockets. “Looks nice.”

“Oh, thanks. Jake here actually helps me decorate a lot. Whether I ask him to or not.” She laughs as she hugs the couple.

Harry isn’t listening to the adults much, just watching James. He follows him around and sits next to him at the dinner table when the food’s ready. He thinks James smells very nice and wears nice clothes. He feels a warm, familiar presence on his other side throughout the entire meal, too, chatting a lot and putting a hand on his knee. It smells like vague sweat and the outdoors, just like always.

Outside, it’s suddenly dark, and Harry is alone in the dining room. Bugs begin to make noises that he can hear through the open kitchen window. Harry rubs his eyes. His body feels so heavy. He doesn’t know where everyone has gone. He walks upstairs to Louis’ room.

The climb up the stairs is familiar even though Harry’s feet feel like they weigh a thousand pounds. Steps number three and six creak just like they always have. The left railing is loose where Harry holds it, just like it’s always been. Louis slid down it two years ago and tore the entire fixture out of the wall. James has never been able to get it back the right way. Harry clings to it, anyway.

At the top of the stairs, Harry walks straight ahead past multiple other doors until he gets to one covered in a poster of David Beckham. It’s already ajar. He knocks on it. Then he shakes his head. He doesn’t know why he just did that. He never knocks.

Peeking inside, he sees Louis lying flat on his back on his bed, shoving his dirty soccer ball high up in the air before catching it. Again and again.

When Louis doesn’t look his way, Harry cautiously opens the door. He knows Louis sees him standing there. The door just squeaked when Harry opened it, too.

Harry clears his throat. “Hi.”

Louis keeps throwing his ball in the air, using so much force it’s surprising it hasn't already deflated.

Something’s wrong. Harry doesn’t remember talking to Louis at all since he first arrived. The entire night has been foggy. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but he feels like collapsing on the ground. Something is wrong.

“Do you wanna kick the ball around with me now?” he asks Louis. His feet shuffle nervously against the carpet.

“You might get your clothes dirty,” Louis says to the ceiling, not looking like himself at all. He looks mean.

Harry looks down at his shirt and tugs on it self-consciously. He suddenly feels very foolish for choosing it to wear. “We could get dessert downstairs,” he suggests. His ears are ringing now, loud and buzzing.

“Already had some.”

Harry doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know much about what anybody has done tonight. He can’t remember most of the night’s events. And now Louis is rejecting him. Louis is his best friend. One of his only friends, even if he does go to middle school. What has he done?

Harry knows when he isn’t wanted. He takes a step back as his eyes become blurry and damp. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so bad. Everything is awful.

He goes away. A few tears spill out of his eyes and fall down his cheeks.

Harry doesn’t know where his feet are taking him until he’s already outside beside his mom. She and the other adults are in the backyard chatting and drinking wine on the patio while relatives and other kids run around the yard. In the middle of a laugh, Anne looks over to Harry, whose hand has found the side of her blouse and has it clutched in a death-grip.

“I don't feel good,” Harry tells her. He feels hands on his face. They feel cold.

“Oh, Harry, you're burning up.”

Harry sniffs. “Momma--I don't--I don't feel good,” he cries. He’s small and alone in a sea of grown-ups, and he can’t stop crying. His body aches.

“What's wrong?” Des asks. A lot of the adults stop talking.

“He's feverish.”

Jay's eyes dart to Harry. “Oh, Anne,” she says sympathetically. “Take him inside. I've got some medicine we can give him.”

Jacob sits up. “I do too, I think.”

James shakes his head at Jacob. “He's too young for the stuff you have.”

The adults usher Harry in the house. He feels worse by the minute. He’s suddenly belly-down on a couch. They've taken off most of his clothes. His mom’s hands rub cooling lotion on his back, but he still feels sweaty and hot.

Des watches in open-mouthed shock. “He's--but he's so young.”

“It's not about that,” Anne mutters. “Not yet. It's just his body's way of preparing.”

“Still. This is--this is too young.”

“It's about normal, actually,” Jay supplies from behind the couple. She’s in the medical field. She knows things. “Eleven is an average age these days. Being around Louis tonight probably just helped accelerate it since Louis has started it all now, too.”

At Louis’ name, Harry suddenly feels like sobbing, and he releases a noise of anguish as he writhes on the sofa. The next moment, loud footsteps are heard as Louis tramples down the stairs and runs to Harry. He frantically looks to his mom.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What's wrong with him?”

Panicked, Louis gets close enough to Harry to touch him, and then he can’t stop. He gets on the couch with Harry and feels everywhere, everything, looking for injuries.

“Mom! Why is he so hot? Harry--Mom--what's wrong?”

Harry sniffles. As he brings his hands to his eyes to wipe away the wetness there, Louis takes the opportunity to cover Harry's body with his own and wrap his arms around Harry's middle. Harry is so hot that Louis feels his own skin tingling like he’s sunburnt, but somehow he knows this is what’s right. It feels right. He feels like it’s helping Harry.

Harry's eyes are still wet when he drops his arms. He looks pitiful as his eyes meet Louis’. “I feel funny, Louis. I don't like it.”

“I'm sorry.” Louis takes his shirt and shorts off and blankets Harry's body again. He hopes he’s absorbing some of the warmth from Harry's skin. “I'll help you.”

The presence of the adults is too close. Without realizing it, Louis bares back his teeth and hisses at them.

Anne laughs and holds up her hands placatingly. “Okay, Louis, we get it.”

Once everyone is a safe distance away, Jay brings her hands together. “Oh, how cute,” she and Anne coo together.

Suddenly, Des grips Anne's arm and drags her into the next room quite forcefully.

“What is your problem?” she asks in shock, rubbing her arm.

“They're in their damn underwear, for God’s sake,” Des harshly whispers.

“Harry is eleven years old,” Anne replies, voice clipped.

“Exactly my point! How are you okay with this?!”

“They're young, Des. There's nothing …” She searches for a word. “There's nothing perverted about this. They don't think that way. Besides, if you haven't been able to tell that Harry and Louis are destined to be mates in the future, then you're even more self-centered than I thought. I would get over it soon if I were you.”

“What the hell does that mean? I'm self-centered? I work my ass off to provide for this family, put food on the table--”

“And I don’t?! Just because I make less money than you doesn't mean I don't work hard!”

Des’ face goes red. “I'm talking about our son.”

“Who is clearly in heat and is getting what little comfort there is to be had from Louis. Louis has always been a huge part of Harry's life. You'd see in a heartbeat what I see if you’d just spend time with him.”

“I do spend time with him! I take him and Gemma to football games all the time!”

“Because that's what you like, not them. You don't even know what their interests are.”

“Oh, please. They like the games I take them to!”

Anne sighs. “I don't see you interested in the things they like unless you already like them in the first place. What about Harry's singing?”

“That's just a hobby.”

“That he's passionate about! This is exactly my point. You don't care unless you like it yourself. You've never gone to any of his performances at school.”

Des clenches his fists. “Stop changing the subject. The fact is--my eleven year old son is in there with that other boy half-naked on top of him, rubbin’ all over another! And you're acting like it's the most normal thing you've ever seen! Encouraging it, even!”

“Des. Please. It is normal.” Anne sounds exhausted. “And that ‘other boy’ is Louis.”

“I don't care that it's Louis! Hell, it's even worse that it is!”

“Listen to me for once in your life! It is normal.”

Des rolls his eyes. “So it’s normal for an Alpha and omega, aged thirteen and eleven, to be naked together on a couch?”

“It is.” At the look on her mate’s face, Anne insisted, “It is. You just don't get it. I don't think you ever will.”

“Don't you dare say this is because I'm a Beta. I'm so sick of hearing that. I understand stuff about you omegas. I get it. Don't even pull that card. You need to respect me. For once.”

“You have got to understand the facts, then! For Alphas and omegas, it's different. It just is. You've got to try harder to understand. There are biological factors at play--”

“Harry is ELEVEN! He's not even in middle school yet! I don't give a damn that he's an omega--my only son, an omega--but this is crossing the line.”

“What do you mean, ‘your only son an omega’? Like it's a curse? Like there's something wrong with him? Are you ashamed?”

Des is finally silent for a minute. “We have to deal with this now for the next seven years.”

Anne speaks up. She knows he's lying. “They're not in there doing anything inappropriate. They're young boys who will be mates one day finding comfort in one another. It's making Harry feel better, and it’s innocent.”

“Which is why Harry came here dressed so pretty to impress that man. That thirty year old man.”

“Who is himself mated and therefore no threat whatsoever! Not to mention twenty years older than he is. Des, please try. Try to understand. It's instinct. He can’t control it. He doesn't know about any of that other stuff yet.”

“You don't know what he knows, Anne. You can't. This is just opening the door to sex, and the next thing we know he's coming home pregnant--”

“Des!”

Jay knocks on the wood of the doorway to signal her presence. “So sorry to interrupt, but Louis’ been growling pretty non-stop in there,” she apologizes. “I know it'll be hard, but I think it's best if we separate him from Harry for the night.”

Anne composes herself and manages to smile. “Of course. It's getting late anyway.”

Anne and Des walk back into the living room a few tense minutes later to Jay holding Louis by his ear behind the couch. James is off to the side of the room putting a band-aid on his bleeding hand.

“I don't care what happened, you do not bite people,” Jay sternly scolds Louis. “Especially not family! Now go to your room.”

Louis has never felt so defiant. He can tell from his mother's face that she won’t back down, though, so he decides to negotiate instead.

“Can I at least walk him to the car?”

Jay looks at Anne and Des and notices Des looks less than happy. “Let his parents take him.” She lifts her head to Anne. “Thanks so much for making it. Let me know if there's anything I can do. Really.”

Anne smiles as she walks a slouchy Harry to the door. “Thanks.”

Louis feels like he's losing a limb as Harry walks to the door. “Here--he doesn't have his clothes on. Let him leave with a blanket. I'll go get one,” he says in a rush before running up the stairs. He takes his own blanket off his bed and gives it to Harry. He doesn’t like it when Harry’s sick.

When Harry’s gone, he notices he’s been in his underwear in front of everyone this entire time, and he runs upstairs to his room, slams the door, and doesn’t come back down for the rest of the night.


	3. its a long way down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens just after the end of last chapter, so I don't have the ages there since it's all in the same summer. :)

When Harry’s fever finally breaks and he can step out of bed without feeling like he’ll collapse, he carefully walks to the hallway bathroom that he and Gemma share to look at himself in the mirror for the first time in days.

Staring at his reflection, he can’t say he looks much different. Gross, maybe--since, besides the wet cloth his mom had run over his skin, he hasn’t washed himself in days--but not different. Not really.

He _feels_ different, though. Like...different on the inside. But if somebody were to ask him to describe it out loud, he knows he wouldn’t be able to put words to it. He can’t. He can’t explain it. Not when he can barely even remember what happened to make him feel this way in the first place.

Little pieces of memories from the past few days flash around Harry’s mind, but try as he might, he can’t put any of the events in any sort of sequence. Even while he bathes, though satisfied at washing off his grimy skin, he can’t relax. The past few days have all run into one another, and he’s scared about how entire days have gone by without him having any clue about the most basic stuff --like what time it was or what day it was or what he ate.

So...Scared would be a good word to describe how he’s feeling on the inside, he guesses. But also confused and exhausted and very, very sore. Every muscle in his body screams, aching all the way down to the very bone, and his brain hurts, too.

Mainly, he’s embarrassed, though. That feeling is the strongest.

What he does remember from the few days he was locked up inside his bedroom makes him feel so ashamed he can feel it all over, and he wants there to be a giant blanket floating around in the middle of the room that he can cover himself with and hide under.

He remembers being naked in front of his mom. And rubbing against his pillows until she had to take all his sheets and pillows away. And crying. Crying so much, no more tears would even come out.

He sinks under the water of the bath, only coming up for air when he positively has to. He does that a few times in a row until he hears banging on the door and knows his mom is on the other side, worried, so he raspily calls out to her that he’s okay. Then he empties the water in the tub, and, even though his dad will be upset because he’s wasting water, turns on the shower and stands under the spray for a very long time.

Harry remains embarrassed and sluggish all evening. He knows everyone in his family knows about what happened. The weird way he’s acted. The bad stuff he’s done. They all stare at him when he emerges from upstairs. And they all treat him like he’s going to break down crying if they say the wrong thing. So they’re all quiet.

To make it worse, after he finishes an extremely awkward dinner, his mom takes him upstairs to her own bathroom and shows him long pieces of absorbable cloth that she calls pads. He’s supposed to stick them to his underwear and change them out for the next two days because now that everything’s over, she says that he’s going to bleed for a little bit.

It’s only then that a small layer of fog lifts as some of Harry’s regular memory comes back. He knows that he’s learned this stuff in school, all of the same things that his mom stands before him explaining. Her voice is warbled, though, and Harry’s ears feel hot as he looks at the tiled floor and tries to hide hide the blush that’s quickly spreading all over his face.

Last school year, Harry remembers sitting in A/B/O Health class and shrinking in his chair when the instructor finally got to the chapter about procreation. While all the Alphas made very rude comments about everything in that class, slouching in their chairs like they didn’t really care even though practically everyone could smell their excitement, Harry had tried to make himself invisible. He barely paid attention to his teacher, instead choosing to read all the lessons at home when he was alone in his room. Talking about that kind of stuff in school made him feel really funny inside, and he didn’t like it. Especially when people would turn their heads to look at him and mention that he smelled weird, like Niall.

Niall was always nice to Harry, at least. If Harry had to be seated next to any Alpha at all in health class, he was glad it had been Niall, even though Niall had to miss almost an entire month of school because of a bad injury that kept him in the hospital. Next year in sixth grade, Harry knows that all the health classes will be split up by gender, so at least Harry doesn’t have to worry about Alphas smelling him then. But he’ll still miss Niall. He was nice. Not like the others.

Harry can’t decide which is worse: learning about mating cycles in school in front of a bunch of Alphas or learning about mating cycles from his mother.

They both suck.

Harry wonders if Zayn’s had this happen yet. He wants to lay in the grass beside Zayn under the big oyster-sun again and just disappear.

These are all the things that run through his mind as his mother talks on and on, eventually placing a blue box in his hands when she’s finished.

When Harry goes to bed later on that night, with a heat-therapy patch on his belly and an uncomfortably large piece of absorbable--something--in between his legs, his mom sits on the edge of his mattress and brushes his hair back with her fingers, the way she’s always done since Harry was really little. It helps him feel a little better, even though a part of him still wants to hide himself under his blanket.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry yawns and snuggles his head against his pillow. “Not very good.”

“You’ll feel that way for a while, unfortunately,” his mom says gently. “But it’ll get better.”

“Why does all this have to happen,” Harry quietly mutters. He stares blankly ahead as two little trails of tears fall from the corners of his eyes.

“If I could take it all away, I would,” his mom whispers down to him. She looks guilty, and it makes Harry feel bad.

“It’s okay, Mom.” He tries to smile, but it’s not real. “I’m okay.”

They’re both quiet for a very long time. Eventually, Dusty jumps on the bed and rubs his face against Harry’s hair, but Harry doesn’t have the energy to lift his arm to pet him.

“Well, honey, I’m gonna let you get some sleep,” Anne finally says, stretching forward to kiss Harry’s forehead and gently wipe tear-residue off his face. She places a container of Tylenol and a cold water-bottle on his nightstand before walking to the door. “Just get me if you need me, okay?”

Harry just nods and closes his eyes, curling his body in on itself while closely holding onto his newly-washed blanket. He’s so thankful his body has finally cooled down enough to sleep with sheets again.

 

* * *

 

 

Covered in sweat and smelling like mild gasoline and grass, Louis enters his home through the back door of the basement and chugs down a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator they keep down there without even breaking for air. When he’s done, he drops the plastic bottle on the floor, stands tall for long seconds, and pants from exertion.

It’s June--still the beginning of summer vacation--and while his normal routine has been sleeping in until two in the afternoon, being lazy all day, and staying up all night playing video games with Calvin, on certain days he wakes up feeling this weird urge under his skin to actually do something... _Alpha_ -like. It’s unexplainable, but it’s unavoidable, like his body won’t settle until he’s been productive or made money or something, so today he’s gotten as much work as possible done for his neighbors to make himself feel better. It just involved simple chores like moving heavy things around in Mrs. Morris’ basement and mowing the front and back lawns for two of his neighbors, and Louis doesn’t mind those kinds of things at all because they make his muscles bigger.

Now that he’s done working, though, he’s fully prepared to do nothing. Except maybe eat everything in the house because he’s freaking starving.

While he’s walking up the stairs into the main level of the house thinking of last night’s leftover macaroni and cheese, he hears his name being spoken from somewhere in the living room and stops dead in his tracks. Quietly as he dares, he turns the doorknob, cracks the door open a sliver, and peeks through.

“Mowing the neighbor’s lawn probably,” his uncle James is saying in response to something his mate must’ve just asked.

From what Louis can see inside the living room, Jacob is lying on his back on the big sectional couch with James casually resting half-atop him, half-beside him. It’s three in the afternoon, and they’re wearing pajamas and snuggling.

Louis spies.

“What do they need Louis’ help for?” Jacob asks. His voice sounds sleepy. “Like they can’t afford their own lawn services around here. They’ve all got maids and pool-boys, don’t they?”

“Most of ‘em, yeah.”

“They should leave the kid alone. He’s only thirteen. He should be spending his break relaxing.”

“Are you kidding? The kid does nothing but relax. Besides, he’s the one who goes knocking door-to-door asking the neighbors if they need help in the first place. Trying to make money for himself.”

Jacob scoffs. “Because your sister and Austin don’t make enough.”

“Well, I think he's saving it all up for a special reason,” James replies. He shifts to wrap his arm around Jacob’s waist and put his head on Jacob’s chest, and Louis pulls his head back so their change in position wouldn’t put him in their line of sight.

“What reason might that be?”

James grunts. “Harry, of course.” Then he switches his voice to something weirdly old-fashioned. “Like a dowry.”

Jacob hits James on the head. “What is this, the eighteen-hundreds?”

Louis can see James’ mouth turn up at the sides. He's just missed what his uncles had said since he had to move away from the door for a moment, but he knows he heard Harry's name just now. He sits down on a narrow step of the stair-case and tries to catch up.

“With the furniture my sister keeps, it could be.”

“Hey, I like the furniture.”

“You would.”

“Do you really think someone as young as he is is actually doing all that, though?”

“What, saving up?”

Jacob makes a noise like, “Mm.”

Louis watches as James shrugs and says something about Jacob being a psychologist, and then he mutters something else. Louis cannot follow this conversation at all, and now he’s not really even sure it’s still about Harry. Still, he tries really hard to tune in to his uncles’ voices, which is a bit hard for him to do without actually seeing their mouths move. He’s noticed that his hearing goes up and down sometimes, like it’ll be great one day and then the next, it’s shit. It frustrates him to death.

“Wouldn’t it be the other way around?” Jacob continues. “If that kind of thing happened anymore at all? The omega’s family would give money to the Alpha for agreeing to take on the responsibility for the omega now. Why would the Alpha need to give the omega’s family a dowry?”

“I don't know.” James nestles his face into his mate’s neck and speaks, “To impress the omega. Maybe to tell the family...thank you for letting me have your beautiful and perfect omega for the rest of my life. Here's a bunch of money for my endless gratitude.”

Louis can physically see the blush on Jacob’s cheeks at that, even through the little narrow opening of the door he’s spying through. It must be an omega thing to get embarrassed at hearing compliments because Harry’s face gets red really easily, too. When it happens to Harry, though, it makes Louis feel like smiling because he knows he’s made Harry happy, but now this just makes him roll his eyes. He never knew his uncles could be so corny.

James sniffs the right side of Jacob’s neck after he places a kiss where Louis knows the universal bond-mark spot is. “You smell different lately.”

Jacob has a deep mark there on the side of his neck, like a big faded pink scar in the outline of teeth, but it’s not ugly. Louis’s seen some that look really bad, which sort of sucks, he thinks, because once it’s on there, it’s on there. But Jacob’s looks pleasant. “You’re not wearing perfume, are you?”

Now that his uncles have stopped talking about himself and Harry, Louis wants to walk away, but he’s nosily stuck into their conversation now. And it’d be kind of hard to walk out in front of them without being noticed, anyway. According to his mother, his footsteps have apparently gotten heavier lately as he’s grown a bit taller and broader. He’s sure he stinks, too. His mother tells him that sometimes, also. Take another shower, Louis!

Jacob clears his throat before shaking his head. “When have you known me to wear perfume?”

James grunts. “Smell different, s’all.”

A silence long enough to make Louis really want to leave sits in the air for a minute before Jacob finally speaks. “So, uh. I think that...now would be a good time to tell you I'm pregnant. So...that’s probably what you’re smelling.”

Louis’ eyes get wider as he stares at his uncles. He puts a hand on his open mouth. James lifts his body completely off Jacob and is then suddenly immobile, his mouth dropped, too. “Nuh uh.”

Jacob has the inside of his cheek bitten in order to stop himself from smiling so huge. “Uh huh.”

“No way.” James looks down at Jacob’s stomach. Immediately, he scoots his body down the couch and smells Jacob’s belly. He looks back up to Jacob. “Seriously? You’re seriously pregnant?”

Jacob nods happily.

“No way,” James says again. He sniffs all around Jacob’s abdomen before lifting himself up again. He sniffs Jacob’s throat again, and Jacob giggles. “Aw, man. Aw, man. You’re pregnant! You’re actually pregnant.”

What he smells must confirm it, then. Jacob’s eyes shine as he watches James’ reaction, and Louis’ eyes crinkle as he watches them both. He’s literally never seen his uncle James act this way in his entire life. Jacob--yeah, sort of. He’s an omega, so of course he’s a bit more emotional just naturally. But James...He’s normally sarcastic. That’s sort of where Louis gets his own sarcasm from. Now he’s acting like a child almost. In a good way, though. A little sickening, but still good. Louis wants to laugh.

“Oh, my God, I was just lying on your stomach. Babe--why didn’t you tell me?”

“My stomach’s fine,” Jacob chuckles.

“It’s--we’ve been trying for so long,” James whispers. He places a gentle hand on Jacob’s stomach. “Jake.”

Louis can tell by the air that Jacob’s about to cry now, and he finally tiptoes back downstairs into the basement feeling...he doesn’t know how, exactly. Something is inside of him, some wordless feeling, neither happy nor sad. Maybe kind of hopeful, but since he doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t dwell on it. All he knows is that there’s gonna be another baby in the family soon, and he’s so excited. He loves kids. Maybe it would be a boy, even, or another Alpha like himself to play and hang out with.

Louis watches television until he feels it’s safe enough to go back upstairs. When he does, James and Jacob are nowhere to be found, so Louis happily goes straight to the refrigerator and eats and eats and eats. Eventually, he hears the front door open up, and immediately, there’s chaos.

Everyone makes a ton of commotion as they enter the house, as always. Lottie and Fizzy trample into the kitchen and loudly drop two big bags of clothes on the table before running to Louis to wrap themselves around his legs. Louis’s still standing in front of the open refrigerator when his two uncles suddenly appear in the room, walking in behind his sisters.

“Well, hello there, Nosy,” James greets Louis.

Louis lowers the milk jug from his lips and wipes his mouth. “Huh?”

“Louis, that’s so unsanitary, come on,” Jacob mutters, nodding his head to the milk in Louis’ hand.

Louis shrugs and places the jug back in the fridge. He looks down to his sisters, holding onto each of his legs with goofy grins on their faces. “Where’d you guys go?”

“You smell like a big, giant, dirty sock!” Fizzy hollers. Lottie backs away from Louis holding her nose, and Fizzy laughs as she steps all over Louis’ shoes, still holding onto a leg.

Jay breezes by to wash her hands in the kitchen sink after placing more bags on the kitchen table. “Oh, jeez, Lou, you really do stink.”

“And there’s grass all over the floor!” Austin exclaims in a weird half-whisper, half-hiss, breezing in with Phoebe in a carrier on his back and Daisy sleeping in the crook of his arm. “Louis, I’ll never get the house clean, what with that shedding dog, and all these crumbs in here, and--”

A loud grumble leaves Louis’ chest as he walks towards the main staircase. He pushes Fizzy off his leg. “What’s with everyone attacking me?”

“Calm down,” Jay says. “So, hey--we’re taking Jake and James out to eat tonight. I’ll need you to watch the girls.”

“All of them?!”

“Well, we’ll be taking the babies, of course. Just Fiz and Lots.”

“But I don’t want to watch them,” Louis gripes just as Fizzy’s walking back to him to step all over his shoes again, holding onto the bottom of his t-shirt and pulling it. “Fizzy! Stop it! Mom, I’ve already been working all day for the neighbors.”

“Congratulations.”

 

* * *

 

The summer rolls on.

For the Fourth of July, Louis asks his parents if they can have a big cookout. Because it’s also around Lottie’s birthday, they agree, so Jay and Austin throw a big party and invite much of the neighborhood and other people they know. Harry talks Zayn into coming with him, and he’s glad that Zayn agrees, because without Zayn’s dad offering to drive them all, Harry would have to ride his bike over.

Even though it’s a weekend, Harry’s parents have to work. They say that they’ll come over to the cookout afterwards so they can visit for a bit before taking Gemma and Harry to see the fireworks by the mall like they always do. Sometimes in Pennsylvania, Harry will watch the fireworks at the fair with his grandparents. But the ones at the mall are lots of fun, too. Harry likes to see them light up the sky. He can’t wait.

But for now, he’s excited to be at such a fun party. The weather is absolutely perfect. The sun shines bright and hot in the middle of a clear sky, and even though it’s kind of humid, there’s a big sprinkler, a slip-n-slide, water balloons, and a giant pool in Louis’ backyard.

Harry talks Zayn into actually going into the pool, but they stay in the shallow part because Zayn’s uncomfortable. He never learned how to swim when he was younger like Harry did. Actually, he doesn’t even have his own swimming trunks to wear, but Harry let him borrow his bright yellow ones, so that’s good. And it’s completely fine with Harry to stay out of the deep-end because it’s so crowded there, anyway, and besides, he likes it better in water where his feet can touch.

“Why are you wearing a shirt in the pool?” Zayn finally asks Harry after a while. “So you don’t get sunburned?”

Harry automatically answers, “Yeah,” but really, it’s because he’s gotten a little more pudgy lately, and he doesn’t want to be shirtless in front of so many people. It makes him uncomfortable these days.

Just then, a big splash of water stabs Harry in the eyes as two Alphas cannon-ball into the shallow end, which they’re not supposed to do. As the two of them both pop up from beneath the water, they shake their wet hair on Zayn and Harry and look at each other, grimacing.

“Ugh, wouldn’t have even jumped in if I knew these two losers was in here,” the bigger Alpha says loudly. The other one with reddish hair laughs. Before the pair swims away to the deep end, the bigger one purposefully splashes water into Harry and Zayn’s face, laughing.

Zayn stops himself from splashing them back as he watches them go. He looks at a very sad-looking Harry and says, “Screw them, man.”

“What have we ever done to them?” Harry asks, still staring at the Alphas now swimming around in the deep-end of the pool.

“Nothing. They’re just assholes.”

Harry gasps. Still, he can’t help but smile a bit.

“I wish they would die,” Zayn seethes.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“I don’t care. It’s true. I don’t even know their names, but I want them to drown.”

“Tyler’s got the red hair, and Brad’s fat,” Harry answers quietly. He knows them well. They’re always so mean to him and Zayn at school. And sometimes after school, too, ‘cause they live nearby. Zayn’s probably just forgotten their names because there’s no way he doesn’t know who they are. Harry wonders why they were even invited.

“Just forget it,” Harry finally sighs, putting his arm around Zayn’s shoulder and leading him back to the entrance to the pool. That way he and Zayn can hang from the big railing there or sit on the steps and still be in the water.

On the stairs leading down into the shallow end of the pool, Harry and Zayn go back to skimming the small ball they brought in with them back and forth across the water. Louis shows up for a little while and sits on the edge of the pool, only getting his feet wet, and he hangs out with Harry and Zayn for a bit. It’s not for long, though. Soon he disappears because his other friends from school have come, too, and he wants to play with them. Normally, he invites Harry to come with him. But not today.

It’s fun throwing the ball with Zayn. His coordination has gotten so much better lately, and he’s proud. It’s when he’s actually having fun again when a large hand intercepts the path of the ball he’s just thrown, and Harry and Zayn both turn their heads to see Brad’s big, stupid smile. He holds the small ball in his hand right in front of Zayn and Harry’s faces.

“That’s ours!” Zayn speaks up. He tries to snatch it out of Brad’s hand, but Brad easily just holds it up higher.

“Finders, keepers,” Brad taunts.

“You didn’t find it at all,” Harry says. “You stole it!”

Brad doesn’t answer and instead throws the ball to the opposite end of the pool. Tyler is standing on the concrete beside the water, and when he sees Brad’s throw, he jumps, catches the ball mid-air, and does a flip before going underwater. A group of girls laying on towels beside the pool watch him and smile before putting their hands in front of their mouths to whisper to each other.

“I wish Niall was here,” Harry mutters.

Zayn’s quiet for a while, just watching the two Alphas play with the stolen ball. “Where did Louis go?” he finally asks.

Harry stands on his tip-toes and cranes his neck, looking around. The backyard is huge, and there’s lots of stuff going on everywhere. There are trees and plants everywhere, lots of tables set up, and lots of people running around. The back door to the basement is open so people can go in and out the house, too.

“He has to be around here somewhere,” Zayn continues. “He could get them to stop.”

Zayn looks around for a while, too, before he and Harry both realize Louis is nowhere they can see.

“Let's just get out,” Zayn finally says. He doesn’t look very cheerful. “It's no fun anymore.”

Harry’s fingers and toes are all wrinkly, anyway, so he agrees. “Yeah, okay.”

“I'm gonna get something to drink,” Zayn tells Harry.

Harry has his index finger in his mouth, chewing the soft nail in worry. “Want me to come with you?”

“Nah, I'm good. You should go find Louis since that’s what you wanna do,” Zayn says knowingly. “I’m gonna go inside for a little bit, anyway, I think.”

“Okay,” Harry says, eyes still darting all around.

Harry decides to walk to the soccer net first just as Zayn is heading back to the house to the drink table. About half-way there, however, Zayn’s path is blocked. The two boys from before suddenly stand in front of him, dripping water from their broad shoulders all over his feet, and Zayn stops dead in his tracks while trying to make himself smaller.

“Hey, whatcha doin’?”

“You already took my ball.” Zayn tilts his chin up and fakes confidence. “Just leave me alone.”

“Don't give me an order,” Tyler says, offended. “I'm an Alpha.”

Brad stands tall and blocks Zayn’s path again as Zayn side-steps and tries to walk around the pair. “Did you know this bitch can't swim, Ty?”

“You can't swim?” Tyler asks incredulously. “What's wrong with you? You’re gonna be in sixth grade.”

“Yeah, smart one, this omega,” Brad laughs. “Going to a pool party, and he can’t freakin’ swim.”

Brad is very heavyset. Zayn thinks he may be three times his own weight, and it scares him. “I can swim,” he tells the Alpha. “I was just in there.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you show me, then?” Brad takes Zayn’s hand.

At this point, the threat has Zayn extremely on edge. As an omega, all he really has going for him in a situation like this is his swiftness, so he shakes his hand out of Brad’s and tries again to flee. He darts to the left, but he’s caught again in just a second by Brad’s large hands.

“Stop,” he begs weakly.

Brad shakes his head and laughs. “Dumbass. Such a dumbass.”

Lots of people have been roughhousing all afternoon, so seeing boys play-fighting around the pool doesn’t raise any alarms. From a distance, it almost looks like Zayn is friends with Tyler and Brad, just goofing around. They’re smart about it.

The adults hang out around the grill towards the ride side of the house, drinking soda while the kids run around squealing and throwing water balloons. There’s even a line dance going on in a huge section of grass. No one notices that Zayn is being carried to the pool against his will, forced to climb the ladder, and being walked forward on the high-dive like a plank.

Zayn feels nauseous as he stands at the very edge of the diving board and looks down at the water beneath him and all the little people swimming around in it. He’s crazy high in the air, and there’s literally nowhere to go to get down. He tries to walk backwards off the board, but it moves precariously up and down as he tries, making his heart jump higher in his throat. The bigger boy, Brad, puts an ominous hand on Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn wouldn't be able to pass them, anyway, even if he did try to run around them.

 

* * *

 

Behind a hedgerow made up of four huge bushes, off to the very back of Louis’ property, Louis and his friends gather in a circle, all of them shirtless and wearing only their swimming trunks. After reaching down into the waistband of his shorts, Louis holds out both of his palms, and his friends look down at the objects inside his hands with their mouths dropped.

“Whoa!”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“I took it from one of my mom’s friends,” Louis answers Stan, looking around. “Last week.”

“You just stole it right outta someone’s purse?”

“It’s not like she’s gonna notice,” Louis whispers. “It’s just one.”

Louis puts the cigarette between his lips and flicks the lighter in front of his face--once, twice, three times before he can get it to work--and then, connecting the two, he sucks. His mouth fills with stale smoke, and he blows it out.

“See?” he says. “Nothing to it.”

“You didn’t even inhale,” Calvin says. “Here, lemme see that.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Louis counters, holding his hand back so Calvin can’t grab the cigarette.

“But you didn’t even inhale!”

“Yes, I did, man, I know what I’m doing,” Louis says again. Calvin snatches the cigarette out of Louis’ fingers, and Louis growls.

“Guys, guys, relax,” Stan pleads.

Calvin and Louis stare at each other for a few tense seconds before laughing. Stan and Oli let out a sigh of relief.

“Guys,” Oli says, looking around, “this isn’t a good idea.”

“We’re just trying it out, Ol,” Calvin whispers. “Don’t you dare tell on us.”

“I won’t,” Oli says, his eyes big, “but this isn’t a good idea. Don’t you know it’s not good for your body?”

Louis smiles. “It’s okay, Oli. It won’t kill us. Live a little.”

“What if someone catches us?”

“Better shut up and smoke it quick then,” Calvin says, a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his face. He takes one very long drag from the cigarette in between his fingers, and when he blows the smoke out of his mouth, he gloats as everyone looks at him.

Oli’s biting his nails, head turning back and forth between the three boys and the party-goers on the other side of the bushes. He can’t see anything through the thick green leaves, and it’s making him paranoid, so he walks away from the group to act as a lookout instead.

Stan smokes the cigarette next, and just like with Calvin, everyone watches him as he hits it, blows out smoke, and then gives it to Louis again.

“I feel weird,” Stan says, putting his hands out in front of him and staring at them.

Oli whispers from a few feet away, “Are you high?”

“No, I’m not high, dummie,” Stan answers. “But I feel really...like....energized.”

“Me, too,” Calvin says. There’s a stupid smile on his face. “I feel it in my blood.”

“You’re welcome,” Louis says, laughing as he inhales smoke from the cigarette next.

Calvin whispers out to Oli, “Hey, you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Oli hisses, then puts his hands over his mouth, gasping. “Oh, my God, Louis, quick--put it out! Your mom’s coming this way!”

“What?!” Louis crouches down immediately and shoves the tip of the cigarette into the grass before quickly throwing it in the middle of the bush. He stands up and tries to act casual so when his mom sees him it won’t look like he’s doing anything bad, but when he finally turns his eyes forward, instead of seeing his mother’s angry face appear from behind the bushes, he sees Oli rolling around on the ground, clutching his stomach and laughing.

Calvin marches to his cousin and kicks him lightly in the side. “Oli, you fuckin’ asshole!”

Oli just continues to cackle. “Your hearts--your hearts are beating so fast,” he gets out, laughing. “Oh, my God.”

“Man,” Stan whines. “There went, like, half the freakin’ cigarette, dude.”

Oli wipes the corners of his eyes. “Aw, man…Too good. Too good.”

Louis finally just puts his hands on his hips before smirking and shaking his head. “Ya got me, Oli. Ya got me.”

 

* * *

 

With so many people running around, Harry just cannot find Louis. He certainly can’t smell Louis, either, since his sinuses are so full of chlorine and the air is so thick with the scents of everyone else. After a few minutes, he gives up. The yard is just too big, and Louis isn’t anywhere.

Oh, well.

Harry walks to the drink table to meet back up with Zayn. The party can still be fun without Louis. He’s bound to show up sometime. He hopes.

Back up where the drinks are, one of Lottie’s friends who Harry recognizes from a sleepover last year says hello, so he chats with her for a bit. He’s going to miss her when he goes to middle school. She’s really nice.

When she’s gone, Harry looks around and notices Zayn isn’t anywhere now, so he puts his hands on his hips and squints around in the bright sun. He wonders if this is what middle school will be like… Too many people. Loudness. Different, bad smells.

It’s right when Harry is remembering that Zayn had said he was going to go inside the house that Harry’s eyes catch on a piece of bright yellow fabric in the air. There, at the very edge of the high-dive, is Zayn. With Tyler and Brad right behind him.

Harry gasps.

His reaction is immediate. His bare feet dig into the grass and then splatter against the wet concrete as he runs to the edge of the pool, right to the bottom of the diving board, and helplessly watches at the scene happening above.

“Please let me go. Please. I'll--I'll do your homework for a year,” Harry hears Zayn begging. “Both of you. Just please.”

“Are you trying to call me stupid? Is this your way of calling me stupid? I don't need help from an omega. I'm older than you.”

“I haven't even done anything to you! Let me go!”

“Are you about to cry?” Brad taunts. “Oh my God, Ty, look--he's crying.” Brad makes the board move by jostling his legs a bit. It’s hanging so low it might break in half. Urine starts streaming down Zayn's leg.

“Stop!” Harry screams over the music playing. “He can't swim!”

Beside the diving board, Harry holds up his fists like he knows what he’s doing and tries to put on a brave face.

“Oh my God,” Tyler laughs, staring down below, “look at this one now! This is too good.”

“Leave him alone!” Harry shouts, so loud his throat hurts.

The two boys just keep laughing until they finally just push Zayn in, smiling as they watch his feet kick the air on his way down.

“No!!!”

Harry watches in slow-motion as what he can see of Zayn’s face morph into pure panic, and then he hears a scream before there’s a giant splash.

On pure instinct alone, Harry jumps into the pool of bodies. Underwater, he opens his eyes and can barely make out Zayn’s flailing limbs. There are lots of bubbles everywhere, and suddenly Harry can’t see anything anymore. He tries to hold onto Zayn to pull him up, but he just feels Zayn struggle against him as his hands grasp at nothing. Zayn’s skin is impossible to get ahold of.

Harry’s stress-level skyrockets. He’s failing. He’s failing at this. He can’t get his arms around Zayn, and they both begin to sink.

Harry’s chest hurts. He’s not sure how long he’s been underwater, but suddenly he’s at the very bottom, and his ears start to hurt, too. Then there are hands touching him, more than one pair so he knows it can’t be only Zayn now, and his eyes bulge. He can only make out more movement, fast and blurry, and Dear God, the two Alphas have jumped in and are trying to freaking drown them now.

Harry shouts underwater with his mouth open wide. An arm wraps around his waist, and he struggles to escape as he screams even more, clawing at whoever’s touching him. More jostling limbs slide along his body and face, and he feels himself being pulled. He scratches even more. It’s all he can do. Suddenly, there's skin close to his face mouth, and he bites down hard at it, shrieking underwater the entire time.

It’s shortly after that when his throat burns with oxygen. His knees scrape the rough and scratchy concrete beside the pool, and they sting, too.

Harry’s eyes dart without focus in all directions. Everything has a sharp tint to it. There are bodies around him. Wet skin against his. The music has stopped. People are shrieking, scrambling out of the pool. Loud--too loud--voices. Harry's brain hurts. He’s never been so on edge.

Anxious confusion spreads through the air as people talk all at once. “What happened?” “Who did it?” “Who?”

Harry hears a deep, gruff voice speak directly to him. “Alright, kid, it's okay. Relax.”

The person who spoke is breathing heavily underneath Harry. Harry’s been screaming--bellowing--this entire time. He stops in order to cough and tries to slash at the air, but he can’t. He can’t. He can’t get enough air. His chest is rapidly moving up and down, but he can’t stand up. He can’t move. His heart beats louder than he’s ever remembered. A high-pitched noise of distress leaves his throat.

“Jay--His nails--” James groans, face wincing in pain--”they're stuck.”

“Harry, honey, it's okay,” Louis’ mom says in a calm, sure voice. “You're safe now. It's okay. Austin is calling your mom now. Remove your claws from James, please. You’re safe.”

Harry is shaking now, and he doesn’t know what’s just happened. He looks around and sees a lot of people watching him, including the two mean boys who had pushed Zayn into the water. For the first time Harry has ever witnessed, they look scared.

It does nothing to calm him down.

Zayn lays next to Harry with his eyes closed. James has one arm wrapped behind Zayn’s back while Jay checks his pulse with her fingers.

“Open your eyes for me, Zayn. It's okay. Open your eyes now.”

Zayn does so as if awakening from a deep sleep.

Jay touches his face. “Can you breathe okay?”

Zayn coughs many times in succession as he tries to nod his head. He sits up.

“Harry, oh, man…” Zayn’s face twists up like he wants to cry. He puts his hands on his cheeks, long fingernails shrinking little-by-little in the sunlight until they are normal-length. “I'm--I'm so sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” James tells him. He’s still immobile, unable to move without Harry’s elongated nails cutting him open. The crowd begins to thicken. Jacob approaches his mate then, along with Louis’ stepdad and two of Louis’ little sisters.

“Back up. If they feel threatened, it'll just make things worse,” Jay warns. She looks around for her son and sees him right under her nose on the other side of James, dripping water and breathing loudly. She immediately notices his canine teeth have significantly dropped, and she makes herself push down the shock she feels at that. “Louis--can you talk to Harry? We’re Alphas, but he’s not responding to us...Help us out.”

Louis almost looks feral, but he still nods confidently. “Harry,” he beckons. He holds out his hand and puts it on Harry's shoulder.

Harry looks at Louis with wide eyes and breathes hard. He’s stuck. His nails have grown. It’s never happened to him before because he doesn’t get in fights with people, ever, and he has no clue how to get his nails out of someone’s body, and he can’t breathe, and he’s making James hurt. He’s going to hyperventilate.

Harry desperately shakes his head, again and again.

“Harry, c’mon, Harry--” Louis tries again. He looks at Harry’s hands stuck in his uncle’s chest and then back up at his mom. An available and trusted Alpha to Zayn, Zayn has her forearm clutched in both of his hands, and she stays calm while looking at Louis. She over-exaggeratedly breathes in her nose and out her mouth.

Louis steels himself and turns back to Harry. “Breathe with me.”

Louis tunes all of the surrounding noise out (even though it's basically silent, like everyone is collectively holding their breath) and just focuses on Harry. He knows Harry. Harry knows him. It’s just them.

Their eyes meet, and they stare at one another. An unexplainable noise leaves Louis’ mouth that sounds like a low rumble, and Harry’s eyes turn blue before he whimpers.

Finally, he's safe. He wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and immediately burrows his head into Louis’ chest, still panting but now much, much less anxious.

James slumps back in relief and lets out the huge breath he's been holding. “Oh, thank God,” he sighs.

Jacob is right there with a first-aid kit. James’ shirt is torn in several places, and he’s bleeding steadily. “Baby, let's get you cleaned up.”

James’ voice sounds harsh. “No.”

“You're--you’re injured,” Jacob pushes. “Badly. Look at your chest. Let me clean it. I’m not a doctor, but I know how to do it, too…”

“I don't want you by the side of the damn pool. You’re pregnant.” As James stands up, water from his heavy, damp clothes drips to the ground. He grabs Jacob’s hand, and together the two walk to the small pool house off to the other side of the pool.

“I'm so sorry,” Harry says quietly. He watches James walk away while tightly holding onto Louis.

Harry cries but doesn't sob yet. He barely holds it together, actually, but when his mom comes, he knows he’ll absolutely lose it. He’s been so emotional lately, but this. This is just awful. And it’s all his fault.

What had he jumped in the water for? Look what had happened. He attacked Louis’ uncle. Zayn can’t stop coughing and shivering. Lots of people who were having fun are now looking on with worried faces. He should've just gotten an adult instead of jumping in the water himself. He could have done that. They wouldn’t have ruined things like he had. Why had he jumped in all by himself?

“What are you sorry for?” Louis asks. He’s holding onto Harry just as tightly as Harry’s gripping him.

“I ruined the party.” Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “I was just trying to help.”

“I'm sorry,” Zayn adds. He’s white-in-the-face, holding on to Jay like he's still underwater. “It's my fault. If I just knew how to swim--”

“It's no one’s fault but fucking Tyler and Brad’s,” Louis spits. Harry winces at the tone in his voice.

“Louis! Watch your language,” Jay admonishes.

Ignoring his mom, Louis continues, “I'll get those pricks back for what they've done. They won't get away with this.”

“You will not,” Jay orders. “I’m handling this. Now take Harry and Zayn inside until their parents get here. Get them away from all this commotion. You know where the towels and blankets are.”

Louis’ eyes zero in on Tyler and Brad, standing hunched together off behind a few adults. “What about them?”

“They’re in my sight. I’m calling their parents in a minute.” She sighs heavily. “We’ll have to schedule a meeting.”

As Louis stands up, Jay notices that he’s bleeding, too, and her eyes zero in on the source of it. “Louis, your neck.”

Without backing away from Harry, Louis brings a free hand to his neck. When he lowers it, his fingers are covered in blood.

“D-did I--? Oh my God,” Harry moans, face in hands. There are marks in Louis’ neck, rivulets of blood leaking out. Harry looks at the pool. There’s a gross pink tinge to it. He looks down to his white shirt. It’s bloody, too. Harry’s throat tightens up again, and just like that, he’s back to hyperventilating. “I'm gonna throw up.”

He falls to his knees on the grass. Blood from his scraped skin leaks on the grass.

Louis follows him to the ground. “You didn't mean to. Relax.”

Some time later, Louis gets Harry calmed down enough to walk to the house. Louis keeps his arm around Harry as they go, and Zayn follows along on Louis’ other side. They both silently cry the whole time.

Harry’s always thought the Alpha/omega bullying thing was something he could always block out if he just thought nice things. He can’t anymore. He can’t. He can’t block this out. It’s too much. It’s too much.


	4. dancing on the ceiling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things will be more in depth from here on out, which is just a change cause the first few chapters focused on some important events but more or less breezed through the years. :)

**Eleven and Thirteen**  
**Summer**

Sitting on the couch alone with a blanket wrapped around his body like a mummy, Harry hears Louis walk into the room and looks up with wide eyes. Still only in his swim shorts, Louis steps forward with a plate of food in his hands, and as he fills the room with his warm scent, Harry’s eyes stare at his chest and then zero in on the dark little hairs below his belly button. Already, Harry feels an urge to stand up, push the food away, and press his bare skin against Louis’, but he quickly looks down at his own lap again. He’s been clingy enough this afternoon.

Underneath his blanket, Harry’s shirtless, as well, and his swimming trunks are still damp, but he hasn’t had any energy to move and put his real clothes on yet. When Louis walks forward until he’s directly in front of Harry, he holds out a red plastic plate covered in mounds of food, and Harry finds that he can’t even give him a smile. Which is okay, because Louis isn’t smiling either.

“I got this for you,” he says quietly.

Harry loosens his cold hands out of the blanket to accept Louis’ offer, and as he peeks up at Louis he mutters, “Thank you,” even though he doesn’t have an appetite. From Louis’ face, Harry can tell he isn’t happy, but at least Harry can smell that he’s not mad.

He should be, though.

Enough time has passed that Harry doesn’t feel quite as freaked out and helpless as he did earlier, but he still feels horrible. Horrible and awful and very, very guilty. He’s caused such a mess. Ruined a perfectly good party. Everyone should hate him.

Louis stays standing in front of Harry, looking tall as he stares down waiting for him to touch his food. When he doesn’t, Louis reaches out and touches Harry’s hand with the back of his own, and Harry jolts.

“You’re cold.”

Harry shifts the blanket on his shoulders. “I’m okay.”

“You been in here all alone since I left?”

Harry wants to lean forward and hug Louis, so much his arms are twitchy. Instead, he focuses on the plate of food on his lap and shakes his head. “Zayn was here. But, you know...his parents just came. But your uncle came in to sit with me, too. So, it was fine.”

“Who, James?”

“Jacob.”

“Oh.”

It’s quiet.

“Want me to get your clothes?”

“No. I’m--That’s okay.”

“Alright....” Louis looks around. “Um. Just tell me when you want to change, and I can go get ‘em.”

Harry nods at his lap. Finally, he brings a hamburger to his mouth and takes a bite, but as he chews, the bread feels dry and heavy and the meat’s too chewy. The only reason he doesn’t spit it out is because he knows Louis’s watching him eat, but when he swallows, he knows he won’t be able to stomach any more.

“So. Are you feeling any better at all?” Louis asks as he takes a seat next to Harry on the couch.

Harry frowns. “I guess.”

Louis sits unmoving for a long time before he asks, “Do you need anything else? Sure you don’t want your clothes?”

“I’m sure.”

“You really should get out your trunks. They’re still all wet, aren’t they?”

“Shoot.” Harry lifts his left hip and looks down at the couch. “I prob’ly ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No, I mean--you. You’re cold.”

“‘M fine,” Harry mutters. Wishing that were true, he stares again at the plate in his lap and bites his bottom lip. “I -- I think I just want to be alone right now.”

Louis just scoots closer. He stares at Harry’s face for a long time before he asks, “Did those Alphas do something to you or was it just to Zayn?”

Harry shakes his head. They hadn’t, not really. Harry was the one who had done all the damage. He had caused all of this to happen in the first place. He shouldn’t’ve left Zayn when Zayn went off by himself. Look what had happened. All because of him. Harry feels so guilty he can’t handle it.

“I wish I had a time machine,” Harry finally admits sadly. “So I could go back and change everything.”

“Me, too,” Louis murmurs. He’s starting to smell...disappointed, Harry thinks. He hates that it’s because of him.

Harry finally puts his plate of food on the floor beneath him before wrapping himself up entirely with the blanket again and resting his head on the arm of the sofa. “I ruined the whole party,” he says with a muffled yet croaky voice. “Everyone had to go home ‘cause of me.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Louis says. He finds the edges of the blanket and pushes it back from Harry’s face. “You were just trying to help. I shouldn’t’ve been--I should’ve been with you guys. I just didn’t...”

“It’s not your fault.” It’s his.

Louis leans back on the couch, sighing. “Hazza...I don’t get it. Why did you go in there yourself? Why didn’t you try to come find me or another Alpha? Anybody?”

Harry tries not to hysterically cry again as he justifies his actions. “I--There was no one else around!”

Harry knows what he did was wrong, and it’s the worst feeling in the world. He knows--he knows he could have found another Alpha. He could have found some grown-up who could’ve helped if only he would’ve just ran to them first. Or if he’d’ve looked better, he could’ve found wherever Louis was in the first place. Or he didn’t even have to go looking for Louis! He should’ve just stayed with Zayn. Harry knows he shouldn’t have done what he did. Any of it.

“But--”

“I was just gonna swim him to the side! That's all. He can't swim, Lou. Not at all. I didn’t--I didn’t mean to do anything wrong...”

Louis appears a little uncomfortable. It makes Harry feel worse. He hates being such a cry-baby.

“You don’t have to--I didn’t mean it like...” He puts his hand on Harry’s shoulder, rubbing up and down the blanket before pausing awkwardly and clearing his throat. “Hey...It's just. You didn’t do anything wrong, Harry. It’s okay. It could've ended up really bad, ya know?”

Harry quickly wipes his eyes. “It did end up really bad. I didn’t help Zayn at all, and I attacked you and your uncle.”

“You didn’t attack us.”

“I made you both bleed!”

“Alphas heal quickly. We're used to it. It's no big deal. Zayn was trying to do the same thing, it looked like, but he just didn't connect to anybody.”

“How do you know,” Harry mutters, sullen.

“‘Cause I saw him slash at us.”

“How could you see that underwater?”

“Alpha eyesight,” Louis quietly reminds Harry.

Harry’s silent before he finally gravely nods. Two droplets leave his eyes without his permission before he angrily swipes at them. “I hurt you. You were trying to save us, and I hurt you. I thought it was them. I didn’t even--I didn’t even know my hands and teeth could do that. No one’s ever --I never learned that before...”

Louis shrugs. “I told you, it's nothing. I didn't even feel it.”

“But it looks awful,” Harry says, staring at the big bandage on Louis’ neck.

Louis waves an unconcerned hand in the air. “It's fine.” He sits up suddenly. “Do you hurt? I still smell your blood.”

“Jacob put band-aids on my knees.”

“I could’ve done that,” Louis mutters, leaning back into the couch. “Me and mom had to talk to those guys’ parents when they came.”

Harry nods weakly. “God, I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I ruined the whole party.”

Louis reaches into the folds of the blanket and finds Harry’s hand. Taking it in his own, he holds tight. “You didn’t ruin it. Those Alphas did.”

Harry feels different suddenly, like he’s not as cold as he was before, not as gloomy. “I...I still hurt your uncle.”

Louis’ voice sounds exasperated. “He's fine. We’re fine. Please stop feelin’ so bad about it, Haz. James’s already healed and everything.”

Harry wonders why his uncle has healed already but Louis has not. Probably because he’s older. Harry can’t think clearly because the way Louis’d said Harry’s nickname is echoing inside his head. All he knows is he’s just glad no more tears are coming out of his eyes because he doesn’t want to let go of Louis’ hand to wipe them away. For the first time since Louis entered the room, Harry actually meets Louis’ eyes. They’re a bright blue today, like the water in pictures Harry’s seen of tropical places.

“But you’re not.”

“In a few weeks I know I will be,” Louis reassures. His thumb rubs against the back of Harry’s hand. “And by then, all our families have got to go to court to this big meeting about this. Those guys’ families’ll be in debt to us.”

Harry’s hand goes loose in Louis’. “What, they’ll owe you money?”

“Maybe. Whatever the arrangement is." Louis sits up taller. “Mom said this kind of thing hasn't happened in a long time, though, so she's not sure how it'll go. Hopefully it won’t be on the news. But yeah. It could be money, property, different stuff like that. Whatever the judges decide.”

“There are judges?”

“Yeah. It happens in a court.”

Harry puts his hand back in his own lap, bracing himself for his tears to come back. Now the guilt is so strong he can’t even contain it all. He’s caused so many problems. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Harry. Please.”

“That’s easy for you to say! It’s all my fault!”

“Don’t say that! It isn’t. It’s those Alphas’. And Haz, I mean--when I say that they'll be in debt to us, I mean to my family, Zayn’s, and yours. All our families. It happened on our property, but you two were the ones that it happened to.”

Harry gasps. “I have to go to the court, too?”

“Anyone can go, I think. But I think just the head-Alphas have to represent the family,” Louis explains.

“My family doesn't have a head-Alpha, though,” Harry worries. “Not unless Gemma counts.”

“Both of your parents will count, I think.”

Harry’s body slumps. “Oh.”

“C’mon, Harry, stop feeling so…” Louis shakes his head at himself before reaching out for Harry’s hand again. When he interlaces his fingers with Harry’s, he waits a few seconds and then asks, “Is that better?”

Harry now feels fuzzy and sort of tingly inside, but it’s not a bad feeling, so he just nods tightly. He’s exhausted. He’s tired of his emotions jumping around everywhere. He wants to sleep.

Harry drops his head to the cushion behind it, staring up at the tall ceiling. “I hope those guys get a really big punishment. Is that bad of me to say?”

“No. I do, too. And they will. I’ll make sure of it.” Louis’ tone changes back to how it was outside, seething and deep.

Harry shudders. “They're always so mean to me and Zayn. It’s just not fair.”

“What?” Louis turns his entire body towards Harry now. “What do you mean?”

“They’re just--always mean,” Harry shrugs. He brings a bit of blanket up to his nose to wipe it. “They live down the street from us, and whenever we're in the park playing kickball or soccer or whatever, they always steal it. Or throw it at us. And they're mean on the bus, too. They're just jerks.”

Louis scowls. “So this wasn't the first time they did something to you guys?”

“God, no. They do stuff all the time.” Harry sniffs again. “This is definitely the worst, though.”

At the same time Louis’ eyes flash red, Harry gasps. He finds that he can’t look away from Louis’ face.

“Why haven’t you ever told me that before? We wouldn’t have even invited them! I could’ve taken care of this a long time ago. Harry.”

Harry retracts his hand, feeling the same way he does when his dad scolds him for doing something bad. When the redness in Louis’ eyes goes away, Harry looks down at his lap again. “I just didn’t want to bother you with it.”

“What are you even talking about?” Louis asks in frustration. “Why would it bother me if you tell me someone’s being mean to you? I’ve told you before to tell me that so I can make it stop!”

“It was never anything like this,” Harry says quickly. “Just shooting spitballs at us on the bus and stuff. It was nothing.”

“That’s still not okay!”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says again. He’s breathing faster.

Louis stands up from the couch and begins to pace in front of the fireplace. “Stop saying sorry.”

“Sor-” Harry begins, then shuts up.

“They won't be invited to anything anymore. Or their stupid little sister who’s on Lottie’s cheerleading team. They're in a lot of trouble. So much freakin’ trouble. Wait 'til school starts again. Wait ‘til I see them in the hallways. I'll make sure those assholes won't ever talk to you or Zayn again. That'll come up at the meeting.” Louis looks down at Harry and raises his eyebrows seriously. “And if they break the rules, you have to tell me. I mean it, Harry.”

Harry finally chances a peek at Louis’ face, and he looks like he wants to punch a wall. Before Harry can say anything back to him, Gemma breezes into the room wearing just a bikini, immediately pausing beside Louis as she puts her hand on her hip.

“Where are they?” Harry immediately whines to her before she can even get anything out. “I wanna go home. Zayn left over an hour ago.”

“He left, like, twenty minutes ago, Harry,” Gemma corrects. But she answers Harry, sighing apologetically, “They’re both at work.” She tosses a shirt and a pair of shorts on the couch. “You need to change. You’re shivering.”

“You need to change,” Harry mutters, reaching out for the shirt and quickly putting it on. He stands up and shields himself with the blanket as he takes off his swimming trunks and puts on dry clothes again. “You could always ask them to leave.”

“Dad says he can't and Mom has to wait for her boss to give her permission. You know how he is.”

Harry’s lips turn down at the sides, threatening to wobble. His parents won’t even come pick him up for what has to be the worst day of his life. But then, his dad never leaves work because he says he just can't afford it, son, sorry, and Mom--well, he knows his mom cares ‘cause he’d gotten to speak with her on the phone when Jacob called her earlier and she sounded really upset, which just makes him feel even more guilty, but still. He wishes his mom wasn’t at the mercy of her mean, Alpha boss. He wishes she could just leave and be with him. His eyes fill up again, and he puts his face in his hands.

“They could get fired, Harry,” Gemma says softly, walking to him just as Louis approaches again from the other side. He groans, wishing he wasn’t acting so crazy, but that just makes them come closer.

“We would take you home,” Louis tells Harry, “but you'd be locked out. Gem said they didn't leave you guys with a key.”

They never do. And going home with Zayn would’ve been a bad idea since he was so upset, Harry knows. He sniffles and then scowls before plopping back down on the couch. He hates how weird he’s being today. “‘S okay.”

“You can always just stay here,” Louis offers.

“It’s okay,” Harry repeats quietly. “Really. It’s okay. I’ll just wait. You guys can leave me alone and go swim again if you want. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Gemma says, sitting next to him on the couch. Louis sits down on the arm of the chair after picking the plate of food up off the floor.

Harry can’t lie. Even though he sort of wants to shrink up in a ball and hide from everyone and everything, having Louis and Gemma in the room so close to him helps. When he swallows down the last of the tears that are within him, he’s finally able to actually eat.

 

* * *

 

 

The next month is stressful because of legal stuff. Harry’s parents have to take some time off work so they can go to court and talk to lawyers about what happened, and they spend their weekends going through paperwork at the kitchen table. At night, Harry hears them argue about money, and he feels to blame. He can’t even sneak into Gemma’s room to sleep with her anymore because she doesn’t like it, so he just cuddles with Dusty alone and feels bad.

When the sentencing day at court does finally come, it’s the middle of August on one of the hottest afternoons of the year. Zayn and Harry are allowed to be there with everyone else, but they stay in the back, choosing to sit all alone on the bench closest to the door. Neither of them wants to be in the front of the room because it’s hot and they’re wearing long-sleeved dress shirts and pants. At least there’s a fan back there. But really they don’t want to be up there because that’s where Tyler and Brad are.

Also in the front of the room beside Tyler and Brad’s families are Zayn’s parents and Doniya, Harry’s parents and Gemma, and Louis’ mother and Louis. They’ve been going to court for the past few weeks doing important stuff, but today is the biggest day. It’s when the judge tells Tyler and Brad how they’re going to pay for what they did. Then it’ll all be over.

When Harry spots Louis sitting with his mother at the front of the room, he gives a little wave, and Louis looks confused for a minute until he walks away from his mom to join Harry and Zayn.

Louis’s said before that when this day came, the mark on his neck would be healed, but when Louis sits next to Harry, Harry still sees it there. Without the bandage covering it anymore, it’s like a big red, crescent scar. It just reminds Harry of what it was like being underwater and scared, and he’s sure that Louis looks in the mirror every day and probably can’t help hating it since it’s so noticeable.

The guilt just stacks higher.

Harry thought the time in the courtroom would be short, but it’s not. He’s nervous and anxious and distracted all at the same time as people talk on and on and on, and it’s not until Louis leans in close to Harry and cups his hands on either side of Harry’s ear that he snaps out of his daze.

“Your parents and Zayn’s parents went over the paper Mom’s reading last weekend,” Louis whispers, so close Harry can feel the heat of his breath. “She’s asking for everyone to get too much money because the courts usually don’t give people what they ask for, and then that way everyone will get what they actually want. Get it?”

“Um. I think,” Harry whispers back.

“Each family--like, each family that has something happen to them--gets to ask for something, then the judge has to decide what that family really gets to have. So, she’s reading every family’s list now, then the judge will either say yes or no.”

An adult sitting in front of Louis turns around. “Shh,” she says.

“You shh.” Louis turns back to Harry after crossing his eyes behind the woman’s head when she turns to face the front again. “Who’s that?” he mouths to Harry, gesturing to the woman with a quick nod of his head.

Harry just shrugs.

Louis shrugs, too. “Do you get it now?”

“Um. I think so?”

“Don’t worry,” Louis whispers. “Mom’s got it covered.”

Harry breathes out a long, quiet breath. “Okay.”

After all the talking is done, there’s a long break that Harry and Zayn spend outside on the staircase, nervously eating potato chips while Louis hangs around talking on the phone to his little sisters. When everyone goes back into the big room again, the judge reads from a long paper in his hands, and everyone is still and quiet as they wait for him to decide on the punishments for Tyler and Brad. Louis’ right leg keeps bouncing up and down.

The judge says that for committing a crime on the Tomlinson property, the Alphas have to complete fifty hours of community service each and must attend special social justice classes for seven weeks in a row. When he says that these classes are on Saturdays and last six hours each time, Louis smirks.

“I came up with that,” he tells Harry and Zayn. “Except I wanted it to be for nine hours on Saturday and Sunday.”

“Thanks, Louis,” Zayn mumbles.

Louis just smiles. “They’re talking about you now, Zayn--listen!” he whispers.

“Young man,” the lady from before turns around saying. “We are in a court of law.”

Louis looks around the room to the left and right. “Are we really?”

She scoffs.

Zayn’s family ends up with a ton of money. It’s so much money, Harry doesn’t even really know what it could even buy. He just can’t comprehend it. He knows it’s a huge deal, though, from all the noises everybody makes after the judge says the amount, so he grins real big.

Feeling like his heart could burst out of his chest from happiness, Harry hugs Zayn and squeezes tight, and Louis gives him a high-five. The excitement is so strong that it almost makes all the bad memories from what happened disappear for a minute.

When Zayn sits up straight on the bench again, he smiles at his parents in the front of the room and then runs his hands through his dark, fluffy hair. Up front, Harry sees Zayn’s mother crying.

Harry smiles softly before turning to look at Louis.

“You’re next,” Louis mouths at Harry. He keeps a hand on Harry’s knee as he cranes his neck in order to see and hear better.

On top of the harsh whispers of outrage from Tyler and Brad’s families, the judge continues to speak. He says a lot of things, but nothing about money comes up. What Harry does finally hear at the end of the judge’s speech is when he’s explaining that because Harry wasn’t in any true danger on that day and jumped in the water by choice and not force, the Alphas do not have to pay his family anything. The judge stands up and says court is officially over, the matter done.

There’s seven seconds of absolute silence while Harry blankly stares ahead, and then it’s all chaos as Louis catapults off of the bench. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

From the front of the room, Jay whips her body completely around and flashes her eyes at Louis. “Louis, sit down.”

“No apology? No money? No nothing? Nothing at all?!”

“Louis, stop it right now!” his mother orders. Her voice echoes over the buzzing of everyone else speaking all at the same time.

“This is the biggest pile of bullcrap!” Louis hisses. The woman from before turns around to look at him disapprovingly, and he squints his eyes at her. “Don’t give me that look, lady. Mind your own business! You don’t even know what happened!”

There’s a loud sound of wood knocking on wood, and Harry tugs Louis’ shirt, urging him to sit back down. He himself can’t settle down knowing Louis is so mad. “Lou, it’s okay--it’s okay. I’m not upset!”

“He could’ve drowned! Did no one hear that part? He could’ve drowned!”

“My order is final,” the Judge’s loud voice booms. “Get him out of the courtroom.”

Harry whimpers. His neck twitches annoyingly until he finally feels better just tilting it to the side and keeping it like that, still holding onto Louis’ dress shirt.

“Harry, it’ll be okay...” Zayn tries consoling.

Louis stands on his tip-toes and points down to Harry with his index finger. “Are you tellin’ me that he almost dies because of those--”

And it’s then that Jay rapidly swoops in from the front, heels clacking as she grabs Louis by the arm and roughly pulls him into the aisle. She leans down, whispers harshly in his ear, and then places a small pill in the palm of his hand before dragging him completely away. Harry watches as they both leave the room together, both of their faces scowly and serious, and Harry doesn’t see Louis again until school starts an entire week-and-a-half later.

  
___________________

 

 **Eleven and Thirteen**  
**6th/8th Grade**

It’s not until school resumes after Thanksgiving break that Harry’s daily headaches finally dull down a bit at school. Even though there are plug-in things in all the rooms and hallways to neutralize scents, everyone smells a lot stronger in middle school than the people in his old elementary school did, and it seems to affect Harry more than others. He’s getting better at dealing with it, but on some days he just can’t handle the pounding in his skull and has to go to the nurse to lay down.

Besides that, Harry's adjusted okay to being in middle school. He thinks. It’s different, that’s for sure. Everyone’s older and bigger, and the teachers aren’t as nice. It’s a little more scary than his old school. Instead of outwardly bullying him like in elementary school, Alphas just stare at him creepily all the time instead, and it makes him self-conscious because his face has started to get bumpy in some places, his body kind of uncoordinated and lanky. And now that his heats have started, he has to miss lots of days in a row sometimes, and all the make-up work sucks--sometimes worse than the heats themselves, which make him feel miserable and gross for an entire week.

The make-up work itself isn’t what’s been hard. What’s been hard is getting himself to focus and actually do it all. He’s gotten flightier this year, sort of disoriented and easily distracted, and it’s just been seeming to worsen as time goes by. He never used to be so scatter-brained, not even for an omega, but now it’s practically every day he has to remind himself what he’s doing, coach himself through simple things like remembering to eat breakfast. Getting through his homework has turned into an actual chore when it used to be so easy. He’s just so tired all the time.

He complains about it to his mom sometimes, worrying about if he needs to go to the doctor, but she just says his body and his brain are just changing and that this happens to everyone. If changing means he looks and feels weird all the time, Harry thinks it’s stupid. He just wants to be a grown-up and skip this part.

He can’t even talk to Gemma about any of it because all she does these days is lock herself in her bedroom and listen to loud music. She doesn’t even eat dinner with the family anymore. At first, Harry’s dad argued with her about it, but he got so tired of her screaming every night that she ‘wanted her freedom’ that now he just lets her do what she wants so he can avoid her rampages. Now he eats on the couch in front of the television every night while Harry and his mom eat at the kitchen table.

Harry has some classes with Zayn and Niall, so that part about school is still the same, at least. Niall’s always had a ton of different friends, though, and ever since Zayn’s family got all that money over the summer and moved, he’s made a lot of friends from his new neighborhood. Sometimes Zayn sits with Harry at lunch, and sometimes he doesn’t. Zayn does say that next year he’s trying out for the choir and that Harry better do it with him, too, so Harry knows he isn’t being mean by not sitting with him all the time. He’s just finally coming out of his shell. Which is a good thing, Harry tries to tell himself.

On days when Zayn wants to be with his other friends at lunch, Harry just sits with three omega girls that are in his Home Economics class. They’re really nice. And it’s not even like he’s not welcome with Zayn, it’s just that he worries that people will think he’s too clingy if he follows Zayn around too much. He doesn’t want people to think that about him.

He never used to worry so much about what other people thought. Now in the sixth grade, it’s all he does.

Especially when it comes to Louis.

Before Harry leaves for school each morning, he makes sure he looks his best just in case he and Louis pass each other in the hall (which they usually do when Harry’s on his way down into the gym at 11:35 and Louis is just leaving his Civics class to go to the cafeteria) or see each other outside waiting for the buses. He wants Louis to look at him and think he looks good and not like his clothes are all from thrift-stores, but he tries very hard not to get in Louis’ way or approach him first. Strutting around in front of Alphas is the biggest thing that omegas get made fun of in middle school, Harry’s realized, and it’s hard for him to always just wait for Louis to notice him when the only thing he wants to do is run up to him and hug him like he used to do.

That’s why he has to revert to his thoughts a lot.

What’s weird is that Harry’s seen Louis less this year than he can ever remember happening all throughout elementary school, but he thinks about him more than ever before. He makes things up inside his head. And the thoughts are...different than they used to be. They’ve gotten sort of bad. And they make Harry feel bad for even thinking them sometimes, too, but he can’t stop them.

Harry is glad that with all of the other crazy senses that Alphas seem to have, at least they can’t read minds. He would be screwed if they could, especially if he was close to starting his heat or something. That’s when his thoughts always get the worst. (He doesn’t tell a soul what these thoughts are, though--not even Zayn.)

It’s not that he doesn’t get to talk to Louis anymore. He does.

Through the desktop computer that Jay sold for practically nothing to Harry’s mom a few months ago because she said she needed to clear out old stuff from the house, Harry chats with Louis sometimes in the evenings, but only when Gemma’s not already doing homework on it or if his dad is using the phone at the same time.

But still--talking to Louis on the computer is different than actually being around him. Being around him means his headaches finally go away. Being around him means the crazy thoughts that make him feel prickly and unsettled and like jumping off a cliff finally relax. Being around him means he’s--better.

He doesn’t complain about any of this out loud. If he did, that would make him clingy. And no one likes a clingy omega.

 

* * *

 

 

Louis gets off the bus and immediately sprints through all the fallen, crunchy leaves in his neighborhood until he reaches the large door to his house. Inside, he runs directly to the kitchen, not even taking his bookbag off his shoulder. His stomach’s been growling since seventh period, and he’s had to go the entire bus ride home with no snacks. He’s absolutely starving.

As an eighth-grader now, he's hungry all the time, really, but he can’t seem to gain any real muscle no matter how many sit-ups and push-ups he does by his bed at night, no matter how hard he’s been pushing himself at football practice lately. It’s really starting to piss him off why he just won’t get big. Calvin tells him that he just started to take in more calories and it worked for him. Ever since Louis started following Calvin’s advice, he can’t seem to quit eating--three huge meals every day, snacks all day long. His mom says he’s growing like a weed, but he doesn’t know what the heck she’s talking about. He’s still the same small and somewhat-skinny boy he’s always been.

Before Louis can even open the refrigerator, he hears a voice speak from the breakfast nook off to the side of the room and has the living crap effectively scared out of him.

“Sit down,” his mom orders.

Louis growls on pure instinct before noticing the voice has come from his mother. “Jesus,” he swears under his breath. “Don't scare me like that.”

“Sit down.”

He trudges over to his mother and slouches down in the chair across from hers. His backpack thuds to the floor. “What?” he asks moodily. They haven’t been getting along lately.

He already suspects what this is about, but his mom wasn’t even supposed to be home until tonight. He thought he had time. He thought maybe he had time to go upstairs and visit a certain website Calvin told him about last month. The website he hasn’t been able to not visit every single evening even if he tries to tell himself not to.

Jay pushes a piece of paper forward on the table until it’s right in front of Louis. “What do you have to say about this?”

Louis shrugs.

“Well? At least give me some excuse. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Not even looking at his report card, Louis shrugs again. “...I'm sorry?”

Jay sighs. “I've spent so much money on these tutors for you, Louis, and you don't even need them. You're such a bright boy. And still--this.”

“I'll do better,” Louis says mechanically. “I'm sorry.”

Jay shakes her head. “This isn't the first time it's happened, Louis. This is a routine occurrence. Two report cards in a row now.” She sighs. “At first I thought, ‘Well, he just isn't learning the way his instructors teach,’ and then I thought, ‘He's just distracted from all these after-school things and isn’t applying himself.’ I even thought maybe the time you’ve missed from your ruts was to blame. But I know what you're doing, son. I'm not stupid.”

Having tuned most of her speech out, Louis realizes it’s silent again and asks, “Huh?”

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he begins typing a response to something Stan said happened on the bus.

“Put it away. I'm talking to you.”

Louis groans in annoyance and puts his phone back in his pocket.

“Look at your grades. Just look at them. Look at the comments from your teachers! Knows answers when called on in class but not on test. Does not turn in homework. Spends time idly. Louis.”

“What?” Louis grumbles again. “I don't freakin’ like school, Mom, okay? I liked it when I could take drama as an elective, but that was only for the first six weeks. Now it sucks again. Like it always has. My teachers are bad.”

“Next year in high school you could take drama for the entire year as an elective, but you won't be going to high school if you keep purposely trying to fail the eighth grade.”

From behind the basement door on the other side of the room, Louis hears Ted barking for him, but he ignores it to glower at his mother instead. “What are you talking about?”

“I know what you're doing. And it's--” She rests her forehead on her index finger and thumb as if rubbing away a headache before continuing, “Truthfully, it says a lot about you, son, but you cannot do this. You can't stay in middle school forever just because Harry's there. Eventually he'll move up to high school with you. I know it’s hard on you right now because you spent so much time together over the summer, but--”

Louis pushes himself away from the table and stands up. He shakes his head and walks to open the basement door. Ted walks out but doesn’t jump on Louis like he used to because he’s got arthritis now, and Louis begins to leave the kitchen with his stiff-legged dog right by his side.

“I’m not through with you. Come back here. Now.”

“Mommmm,” Louis groans, already at the threshold of the door. “Just let me leave.”

“Sit down.”

“Why? What did I do now?”

“You haven't done anything. Yet.” She digs in her pocketbook until finding a small, hard-covered book, and she places it on the table.

Louis’ eyes bulge when he reads the title. Omegas and You: What You Don't Know You Don't Know. The picture on the cover is of a male and female, both overly-stereotyped omegas, smiling with their hands on their large hips.

Louis raises his eyes to his mom with a look of horror on his face. “Please,” he begs. “Please, no. Not this. Don't do this.”

His mother literally laughs out loud. “What?” she asks innocently. “You'll be in high school in no time at all--I hope--and I don't want you finding out information from the wrong sources.”

“This is not okay. Mom. This is not okay.”

“You're so funny.”

Louis’ mom just sips her coffee. It’s filled with pumpkin-flavored creamer that makes Louis’ nose turn up, but now his nose is turned up for another reason entirely.

“Ughh. I'm not joking, Mom. This isn't cool. We have health class for this kinda stuff. Don’t you know I know this already?”

“You think you do,” Jay speaks over her son. “So, to save you the embarrassment of--God forbid!--talking to your mother about this, I'm giving you a book.”

“How sweet of you,” Louis says sarcastically.

“You really should read it. And you probably won't ask me, but if you have any questions about what's in there, you can always come to me. I'm an Alpha, too, you know. I know what it's like.”

He doesn't want to think about his mom...being with omegas. Eww. “I'm good, thanks.”

With that, he takes the book in one hand and his backpack in the other and proceeds to walk away.

“Louis?” Jay calls after him. He pauses in the doorway with a blank expression on his face like he’s expecting her to talk more about that book. Instead, she places her coffee cup down on the table with a thud. “Give me your phone.”

Louis clenches his jaw but follows her order slowly. He meets her eyes after setting his cell phone down in front of her, letting his anger be known. When he walks away, he’s breathing loudly.

When Louis reaches the threshold of the door again, she commands, “Stop.”

Louis breathes in audibly. “What now?”

“Go ahead and call your coach and tell him you have to miss practice tomorrow because of a parent/teacher conference you're going to. You’re also sitting out the game Friday night.”

Rage coming from out of nowhere rises from Louis’ stomach and out his mouth. “What!?”

“Cancel any work for Mrs. Morris you have lined up for the next month because I’m signing you up for extra after-school tutoring sessions, too.”

Louis doesn't even mean to, but with his emotions so close to the surface, his eyes turn red as he scowls at his mom. “A month?! That’s, like, eighty dollars I could make! I’m not gonna have any time to make that up!”

She looks stoic as she calmly--too calmly--replies, “You do that towards me ever again--raise your voice or flash your eyes--and I'll make it so you won’t even get to leave this house until you’re eighteen.”

“I hate you,” Louis grumbles, finally walking away. He makes sure his mom hears every stomp of his feet on his way to his bedroom.

“Home-schooling, here we come!” she hollers after him.

Upstairs, Louis throws himself on his bed and sulks for half an hour before finally taking out his school assignments from his bag. Once his books are sprawled all over his comforter, he ignores them to sign onto AIM. When he sees with disappointment that Harry isn’t logged on, he ignores the empty gurgling in his stomach and messily and angrily scrawls out answers to his Science questions. In just twenty more minutes, he’s completely done with the rest of his homework--every subject--and even though he’s all alone, he gloats. His tutor--and his mother--can kiss his ass.

It’s only when he’s stuffing all his books back into his bag that he’s reminded of the omega book he’d dropped on the floor upon stomping into his bedroom, and he lifts it to look at the cover again, this time more in depth. The omegas are so tiny-looking, so delicate and ...babyish, almost. He’s not going to open this book. He won’t. It’s stupid.

He knows the differences among the genders. Everyone does. They all took the same classes growing up, and unless someone was an idiot or just had no sense of smell whatsoever, everyone was able to distinguish an Alpha from a Beta from an omega since, like, the age of four. He’s taken A/B/O Health for years. Louis doesn’t need some dumb book to tell him this stuff.

How more embarrassing could his mom get? As Louis drops the book to the floor again, he spares the cover one last glance before kicking it under his bed with his foot.

 

* * *

**Twelve and Fourteen**

**6th/8th Grade**

It’s two weeks after Harry’s birthday, and Harry's sitting at the desk while Louis lays on the bed. They're in Louis’ room together doing their homework, which is rare these days because of all the sports Louis’s involved in. What isn’t rare, however, is the fact that Harry can't concentrate on his homework. Sometimes he’s found that he can make an attempt to put his best efforts into his work, but tonight he can’t even do that. Not with Louis right next to him. His mind absolutely won’t shut up.

Harry’s been thinking about Louis almost non-stop recently, daydreaming about him in class every afternoon, dreaming about him every night. More and more and more and more as the year has gone by. It’s gotten almost strange. Harry never used to be quite so weird and obsessive. It’s just--the thoughts in his head about Louis ...entrance him. More than they should. They’re so loud. He can’t make them go away.

Since he can’t join the choir at school until he’s in seventh grade, he’s joined the one at his church to keep him occupied. That keeps him busy on Sundays and then two days during the week, but once he gets home, it’s always the same. He just can’t wait to get into bed so he can put a pillow behind his back and one in front of his stomach to cuddle with and pretend it’s Louis. It both makes him feel better and worse at the same time. He’s not supposed to act like this.

Peeking at Louis resting on his stomach on the bed, Harry stares at the little bit of his underwear that’s showing from where his sweatshirt is riding up in the back. He quickly turns his eyes back to his homework, but when he sees that Louis hasn’t noticed him staring, he looks over again. His eyes trail upwards, and even though the hood of Louis’ sweatshirt is bunched up around his neck, a pink scar is still visible underneath Louis’ jaw on the right side, like Louis’s purposely pushed down the fabric there to show it off. Harry’s starting to feel less guilty about it.

Harry can tell Louis isn’t doing his work either, but then again, he never really does. He’s smart, but somehow he manages to pass his classes by pure luck alone, Harry guesses. He’s currently doodling on the side of his sheet of paper, the same page in his algebra textbook open since they'd begun their homework a half hour ago. Harry knows Louis knows the stuff, too. He's got two personal tutors, even. And he doesn’t even need them. Even though Harry’s been flighty sometimes, he’s not dumb by any means. Louis could always just ask Harry for the help, so it’s dumb to have tutors. One of them’s an omega.

Harry turns his head away and looks back at his own math textbook, thinking of what he’ll do when he gets home and can be in bed under the covers alone. It’s a Friday, but he’s not staying over at Louis’ tonight. Every now and then he’ll still sleep over here, but it’s happening less and less. They’re not allowed to share a bed together anymore. Harry thinks that their parents think they’re getting too old for sleepovers. Now, if Harry’s at Louis’ house, he can sleep in Louis’ bed, but Louis has to sleep on an air mattress on the floor. He does the same thing at Harry’s house even though Harry says that he doesn’t have to since he’s the guest. But Louis doesn’t care, and truthfully, he could fall asleep just about anywhere and be comfortable so Harry doesn’t feel bad about it.

What Harry does feel bad about is all the stuff that runs through his mind when Louis falls asleep. Sometimes he stays awake at night and stares at Louis, and in those times, in the middle of the dark in the quiet of the house, he thinks about the way Louis looks without a shirt on. And the way his eyes burn sometimes when he looks at him. Sometimes he even thinks about what it would be like to press his lips against Louis’ while he’s sleeping without anybody ever knowing. Or maybe press his lips against Louis’ when Louis is awake.

When he starts thinking things like that, he turns around in bed so he doesn’t have to look at Louis anymore.

Harry wonders what’s going on in Louis’ head right at this moment. Right now he’s just mouthing along to the song on the radio, still doodling, but Harry wonders if he ever thinks about the things that Harry thinks about, if his mind ever replays the same things sometimes, too. Like how good it feels when Louis accidentally touches Harry sometimes. Or when he touches him on purpose. Or about what Louis looks like when he sleeps, when he’s just wearing swimming trunks, when he’s caught a football and is running untouched to the end zone. He wonders if maybe Louis ever stares at his lips, too.

Maybe Harry’s just dirty. Maybe Harry’s just a bad person thinking thoughts like that. Actually, Harry knows he’s a bad person. Good people just don’t think things like that.

Bad person or not, he can't help it. The feeling...the thought--the obsession almost--it's been driving him crazy. He’s been talking to himself inside his head for so long these past few weeks that he decides now is as good a time as ever to do what he’s been thinking about doing for the past half-year. He doesn’t think Louis would be mean about it.

Harry drops his pencil from between his fingers and pushes his textbook to the side.

“Um--Hey, Louis.” Harry tries for casual. Still leaning back in Louis’ desk-chair, the pure definition of casual, the most casual of the casual, he turns his body to Louis. Looking at Louis laying on the bed with his perfect face and perfect everything makes Harry look to the carpet, however.

“Um.” Harry looks up and gives Louis a small smile, trying to come up with a random thing to say. He’s chickened out. “It’s...Did you need help with your homework?”

Louis stares at Harry unfocused before he shakes his head. “Huh?”

“You aren’t doing your homework. Did you...need me to help you?”

“Nah, I got it. I just don’t feel like doin’ it,” he chuckles.

“Oh. Okay.” Harry pulls himself back up to the desk and pointedly breathes really slowly so his heart rate won’t speed up and make Louis suspicious. He tries to start on his homework again.

“...What is it?” Louis asks.

“What’s what?” Harry mutters. He tries to sound innocent.

Louis finally sits up, frowning. “Someone’s picking on you?”

Harry scrunches up his face. “What are you talking about?”

“You--you’re confusing me. You’re all--I can’t-- “ He shakes his head. “Just. What is it?”

Harry’s got his free hand clenched in a fist, and after he opens it, he wipes it on his jeans. Dropping his pencil again, he turns to face Louis.

“You swore that you’d tell me if they started messing with you again at school. What is it?”

Harry shakes his head quickly. “No. No one’s being mean. I was just wondering,” he starts off. He swallows all the excess spit that’s formed in his mouth and then shrugs right afterwards.

“Wondering what?”

“Um. Have you ever ...kissed anyone before? Just curious.”

Louis’ eyes get bigger, and he responds immediately. “No, why, have you?”

Harry shakes his head. “No.”

Louis looks back to his notebook and very-badly pretends to work on calculating an equation. “Oh.”

Harry's thinly-held confidence is wavering. He’s silent as his eyes shift around the room. All the soccer posters from Louis’ childhood still take up the walls, but the room is now filled with other items that prove Louis isn’t just a little boy anymore. Larger furniture. Electronics. Cologne on the dresser. It smells warmer and richer every day. Like a nest.

Before Louis looks at Harry again, he fixes a bit of hair that’s fallen in his eyes. “Why’re you asking?”

Harry shrugs. “I was just. Just wondering.”

Before Louis can respond to that, and before Harry can lose the nerve to ask what he desperately wants to, he spits out his question fast and without finesse, like ripping off a band-aid.

“Would you maybe wanna be eachother'sfirstkiss?”

Since Louis is staring blankly at Harry and since Harry’s nervous, he rambles on. “‘Cause...we've both never...We could, like...I don’t know. If you wanted to. Just to try.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, all right.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Louis says again. He smiles. “Sure.”

Harry shyly smiles back and rolls the chair back up to the desk. He looks down at his book again with his bottom lip in his mouth, heart punching his breastbone. Oh, God, oh God, oh God. He can’t believe he just had the guts to do that. And he can’t believe Louis said yes. He actually agreed to it!

“Well, come here, idiot,” Louis chuckles, swinging his legs around to hang off the edge of the bed.

Harry gulps as he looks to Louis with wide eyes. His voice is weird and squeaky all of a sudden. “Right now?”

“Well, yeah,” Louis starts with a hint of insecurity. “Unless--”

“No!” Harry says too loudly, then clears his throat. This is what he wants, after all. “No,” he says again, standing up and walking to the bed with legs whose muscles don’t know how to properly work all of a sudden. He sits down beside Louis and mirrors him: butt on the edge of the bed, feet on the floor. He looks at his lap. Oh, God.

Louis stares at Harry's lips before scooting closer to him. Their sides are pressed against each other now, shoulders touching, legs touching. Harry tries not to shake as he turns his face up to match Louis’. He watches as Louis’ tongue darts out just a little bit to lick his lips, then Louis slowly leans in. Oh, God, oh God, oh God--Harry didn’t think this through--he doesn’t even know what to do--

And then, just like that, from nothing to something, Harry is being kissed. He closes his eyes, and -- wow. Louis is kissing him. Harry’s preoccupied by that thought for too many seconds before he realizes he actually needs to do something, too, so he tries to move his mouth like Louis does while struggling to remember to breathe.

Harry's lips are kind of dry, but Louis’ are soft and smooth, and Louis’ mouth moving against Harry's is making Harry’s lips damp, anyway. A trilling sound Harry has never made before leaves his mouth just as Louis backs away. Harry is left leaning forward with his lips still pursed. Louis smells so good.

“Your eyes are blue,” Louis whispers. He’s breathing faster than before, just like Harry is. He stares at Harry for a moment before leaning in again, this time more confidently, and pressing his lips to Harry’s once more. Just then, Louis moves his hand to touch Harry's waist, and Harry doesn’t think he's ever felt so good in his life. Whoa.

Harry notices his hands are awkwardly clenched by his sides, so he tentatively moves one to touch Louis’ knee. It causes Louis to make a noise in the back of his throat, and Harry doesn’t know how it’s possible, but he swears he feels the happiness Louis feels inside his own body, like Louis is sharing it with him. It's lovely.

Suddenly, a loud thumping sound from outside the room startles the pair apart. Lottie, who had clearly just been running down the hall and has now just fallen, makes a high noise of pain, and Fizzy runs up from behind her and jumps on her back. From the carpet, Lottie’s all knees and elbows as she looks up at Louis with her mouth dropped open. She’s prepared to cry, but she sees what Louis and Harry are doing and stands up instead, Fizzy rolling over onto the carpet as Lottie jumps up and down.

“Mom!” Lottie yells down the stairs. “Mom!!! Louis and Harry are doing mate stuff!”

Louis growls and stands up angrily. “Lottie, I'm gonna murder you.”

Harry remains where he is, heart thumping madly in his chest, as Louis marches to the door and slams it in Lottie’s face.

“You can't close doors! Mom won't let you!” Lottie hollers from the outside.

Louis turns to look at Harry and frowns. “She's such a pain. Sorry.”

“No--it's okay.” Harry looks anywhere but at Louis, and before Louis can even sit back down on the bed, Jay softly knocks on the door and opens it a second later without waiting for a response.

“Harry, I think it's time to go home,” she tells him.


	5. my judgment's clouded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's sort of sad and angsty right now.

Louis and Harry don’t talk again for a very long time.

And they certainly don’t kiss again for a long time, either.

The week after it happens, Louis doesn't see Harry in any of the hallways in school at all. At first he thinks it’s just bad luck that he keeps missing Harry around all the normal areas they usually pass each other in, but then on the day that Louis finally does spot Harry and smile at him and instead of smiling back Harry actually looks away, Louis starts feeling like luck has nothing to do with it.

Harry’s...ignoring him or something.

It’s then that Louis first feels like he’s been punched in the middle of his stomach, and the feeling’s never really gone away since.

The feeling hasn’t gone away because Louis doesn’t see Harry in the halls anymore whatsoever. There’s no contact to lift his spirits. None. Two times in a row when Louis’s gotten on AIM in the evening and excitedly seen Harry signed on, he’s watched in disappointment as Harry’s screen-name went from bold to italics before Louis could even message him.

He even called the house. He called every night for a week. No one answered, not even when he was halfway expecting them to just to scream at him to stop calling. Even though the feeling in his stomach got worse and worse each night he was rejected more and more, Louis still skipped soccer practice the following week and rode his bike to Harry's house to speak to him directly.

No one was home. Or if they were, they didn't answer the door.

And--yeah, okay, Louis doesn’t say anything to anybody about it, but the rejection hurts his pride at first and makes him downright miserable as time goes on. ‘Cause even though he’d never kissed anyone before, he thought it’d been good with Harry. Like, super good, as a matter of fact, but everything must just be in his head because there’s been no response at all from him. There’s been nothing. Nothing.

So that’s around the time Louis gave up. He started skipping school every now and then in the following weeks, running off with Calvin to smoke cigarettes behind convenience stores and stand around on busy streets doing absolutely nothing. He picked some fights. Got punched for the first time in his life for stealing something from another Alpha’s backpack in the locker room when he thought no one was looking. Spent a lot of the money he’d been saving up for so long on stupid things like candy.

It keeps him occupied, but he never really forgets.

Louis hates to think about one little kiss so much ‘cause, being an Alpha, he just doesn’t think he really should, but he can’t help it.

Harry had asked for the kiss, so at least Louis hadn’t done anything crazy wrong there. (As much as he’d tried to ignore his mom when she made the attempt to have The Talk with him, her Alpha voice was unavoidable when she said that he was never, never, never to do anything with anyone if they didn’t say it was okay first. Like Louis needed to be told that, but still--the serious way she’d said it to him made it so the words have never really left his brain since.)

So Harry had asked Louis first. Good. That means that he either just wanted to get his first kiss out of the way or he had really actually wanted to kiss Louis but then had been disappointed afterwards. Louis doesn’t know. And every time the little voice in his ear yells at him to Just Be An Alpha and find some way to talk to Harry if it means waiting for him outside his house all night, he can’t. He doesn’t have the guts after already getting Harry's message loud and clear.

The thought of Harry absolutely hating him freaks him out too much to try to keep contacting him. He just wishes he knew what exactly he did wrong. He just doesn’t get it. He’d tried so hard to make it good.

That’s why Louis doesn’t say anything about it to anyone. Not Stan. Not Oli. Not Cal. Not even when Cal brags to everyone at the end of April that he’s finally gone to second base with his new girlfriend, Stephanie, and everyone goes, “Ooooh,” and Louis feels like spilling what he’s done with Harry but keeps the information to himself instead because he doesn’t want to have to admit that he’d sucked so bad at it, Harry’s not even talked to him afterwards. Also, Cal and Stan are assholes about the fact that he’s close with Harry, anyway. They don’t even have to say anything anymore, but Louis knows what they’ve always thought. _He’s just a kid_ and _you’re so weird, man_ and _you need to find you an experienced omega._

Stan and Cal can both suck his dick if that's what they really think, and Louis’s told them that before. The fact that he doesn’t tell them that he kissed Harry has nothing to do with him being ashamed of Harry. It has everything to do with him ashamed of not being good enough for Harry.

When Louis does succeed at pushing down all the bad thoughts that he’s completely ruined everything with the person he probably cares about the most in the world, Louis thinks about the way it had felt when he was actually kissing him. He re-lives the kiss in his thoughts all the time, and he hates that he can’t stop it. Especially knowing it’s what’s caused Harry to avoid him now.

It was just so good…  
The happiness inside his chest. The warmth. The buzzing in his abdomen. How Harry’s mouth tasted. How he smelled. How Louis wanted to touch him a little harder but couldn’t. How he probably had touched him too hard in the first place and scared him away but how, deep inside, he wanted even more.

The memory goes through his head over and over again in an addicting way, and he adds things to it all the time, like--what if they’d been all alone? What if Lottie had just stayed in her room? What if he had done something differently? Something to make it better for Harry? Like...had him so he was more comfortable. Laid him on the bed on top of a pillow or something? When he thinks about these things, even though he’s halfway depressed, the images in his head and the feelings in his stomach change from warm to overly-excited to inappropriate, and then it’s impossible to stop them after that.

One morning towards the end of the school year, Louis’s daydreaming about the kiss in math class when his teacher calls him up to the front of the room to write out his answers to last night’s assignment on the board. He ends up in detention during lunch that afternoon for absolutely refusing to get up from his desk because he’d made the stupid decision to wear sweatpants that day.

Now he’s forced himself to wait to think about Harry until nighttime when he’s alone in his bedroom.

Each night now--like clockwork--it’s the same pictures in his head again and again, right when he settles in under the covers. It's not until weeks later when Louis sees that he’s completely filled the trash can beside his bed with tissues that he starts realizing he has a problem.

Louis’s extremely relieved Harry doesn’t know what he’s started thinking about. Louis knows how creepy Alphas can be. The gross way they talk to omegas. By the very end of the school year, part of Louis can sort of understand why Harry would want to avoid him now. He thinks he’s now officially turned into one of those creepy Alphas himself.

And the worst thing about it is he can’t stop. He can't stop. He can't stop, and look what it's gone and caused.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry’s walking down the hall to his Earth Science class minding his own business when a sharp sting on the back of his pants makes him shriek and grab hold of his backside with both hands.

The Alpha waits until Harry looks around, and he smirks once he’s noticed. He’s tall and greasy and Harry dislikes him very much.

“What? With that outfit, I thought you wanted me to.”

Harry looks down at himself. He’s wearing boring, khaki shorts and a Lord of the Rings t-shirt. He scowls at Aiden, tucks his thumbs under the straps of his bookbag on his shoulders, and resumes walking to class alone. He knows people around him heard him scream and are looking at him sort of amused, so he has to look at his shoes as he walks away because his face is red.

The teachers that normally patrol the halls don't actually do much patrolling. They usually just stand outside their classrooms and send omegas to the principal's office when their clothes don't fit the dress code. Harry thinks they all hate their jobs and are mean to omegas for no reason at all.

But that's not really any different than the students.

Harry absolutely hates taking this hallway. He always runs into Aiden. And sometimes Tyler and Brad, too, and they always make weird eye contact with him and don't blink until Harry's completely gone. It's the way Harry has to go these days though, because--well, because of a lot of different reasons that make him sad. If he didn’t take this hallway, then he’d have to walk by Louis in the other hallway, and he can’t do that anymore. Not without crying. Seeing Louis in school isn’t really forbidden for him like some other things are now, but walking by Louis the week after they’d kissed and not even being acknowledged like he used to be had made him feel so awful. Harry’s dad must’ve called Louis’ mom quick.

So now he just doesn’t go down that hall at all anymore. He doesn’t want to have to cry in school when he cries so much at home as it is.

Sometimes he wishes that he had never asked Louis to kiss him. Then maybe none of this would’ve ever happened.

When Harry finally makes it to his classroom right when the bell rings, on the verge of tears again just thinking about sad things, he walks inside and turns up his nose up at the usual odor of burned leaves. From the back row of desks, Niall looks up at him and grins.

“Wassssup!” he greets when Harry walks to the back. Harry manages a small smile and a wave before he sits, eventually meeting Niall’s already-raised hand for a high-five.

“Last week of school, baby, yeah!” Niall keeps enthusing. “Can't wait till summer, Harry--man, I can't wait. It's gonna be the best ever.”

Harry looks at Niall from the side of his eye while taking a pencil out of his backpack. Most Alphas that Harry knows are emotional and moody every now and again (especially his sister), but not Niall. Niall’s always happy. Always energetic. Almost every single day of the year. It’s almost weird. Most Alphas would also be able to smell Harry right now and tell that he’s embarrassed and sad because his blood’s too hot and murky and too close to the surface of his face and then they’d say something like “What’s wrong? Ya on your period?”, but if Niall can tell, he doesn’t say anything. Not that he’d say that anyway, but he never comments on any of Harry’s smells. Though Harry would never say this out loud, he thinks that it all has to do with that accident Niall got into in elementary school that made him miss so much school. Ever since then, it's like he hasn't developed much when so many other Alphas have. Actually--Harry himself is almost taller than Niall.

Unusual for an Alpha or not, Harry’s glad he has at least one person who likes him and who's actually excited to see him and have him around. Now that Zayn has so many other new friends and now that Louis--well, now that he doesn’t talk to Louis anymore--it’s nice to feel accepted.

“What’re you doin’?” Niall asks when he sees Harry reach into his bag for his binder. “We're just finishing up the movie from Friday.”

“But what if there's a test? I already forgot what the movie was about,” Harry mutters. “I'll never pass.”

“Harry, dude, you're crazy. It’s some dude with a British accent talking about animals in the snow, what’s she gonna test us on? We’re already done with all that crap. We're done!”

When the teacher wheels a really old and really large television to the front of the room and presses some buttons, immediately, Planet Earth resumes playing right where it stopped last week. There’s a polar bear family wandering around looking for food, and it’s so cute Harry can’t help but feel better, even if it scares him when the bears get so hungry they don’t even know if they’re going to make it ‘til spring.

Barely even blinking his eyes for the next hour, Harry forgets about his stupid life for a while. He loves Planet Earth.

 

* * *

 

  
Soon after school lets out for the summer, Louis and his family go on vacation. South Carolina is a long way to have to travel crammed in a vehicle with seven people--four of them young omegas, two of them obsessed with blaring bubble-gum pop on the radio and the other two perpetually whiny and sleepy--but Louis just keeps his headphones on during the whole trip down so he doesn’t have to hear them. He desperately wishes his dog could've gone.

It sucks going to the beach feeling like crap.

Even Conor, James’ and Jacob’s newborn Alpha son, comes along, but the entire week, Jacob stays inside with him at the beach-house because he’s too afraid to take him outside in the sun. Louis helps out when he can, but being outside in the sun and water helps cheer him up, so that’s where he mostly stays. When he notices omegas stare at him while he’s on his boogie-board in the ocean, he maybe shows off and keeps his muscles flexed for longer than is necessary. It boosts his ego knowing he's getting attention paid to him.

It’s not until the whole family is already back home and Louis’s just finished dragging the last bit of sand-filled luggage inside the garage that he finally goes next-door to see Ted again. Walking all of his neighbors’ dogs for so many years has really paid off. James says that not a lot of people would take in an old, shedding dog who’s on three different types of medicine for an entire week for free.

But Louis’ neighbor did. And even though he’s sunburned and tired and his ears hurt from all his sisters’ screaming in the van on the ride back, Louis sprints to his neighbor’s house, sees Ted there at the door waiting for him, and immediately drops to his knees to embrace him.

“Hey boy,” he laughs breathlessly, again and again as Ted thumps his tail against him and tries to lick his face off. “Chill out,” Louis chuckles.

Louis chats a bit with his neighbor, thanking him and discussing pro-soccer for a bit. He likes the guy; he’s cool. He wouldn’t trust just anybody to take care of his dog. As they keep talking, Ted lays on his back as Louis rubs his belly, but he gets up again when finally Louis gets the hint and excitedly asks, “Wanna go for a walk? Wanna go for a walk?”

Back at his house, Louis darts in and out of various family members to go directly downstairs to find one of the better leashes Ted has. Because stairs are sort of hard for Ted to go up and down these days, he just waits up at the top of the stairs in anticipation and whines. Louis hates that sound. It makes him feel like he’s not going fast enough.

Hearing a voice yell his name as he’s digging through a big basket next to the washing machine, Louis pauses.

“Hey, Lou!” he hears his mom holler again.

He finds the leash he wants, mutters, “Aha!” and then walks back to the bottom of the stairs and calls up, “Yeah?”

“Come up here a minute!”

He jogs up to the kitchen. “What's up?”

“I just got off the phone with Anne. Did you know Harry’s been in the hospital?”

The leash in Louis’ hands falls to the floor. “What?”

His mom’s face drops. “So I guess you haven't?”

“I mean..I haven’t...” Louis starts getting….upset or something, but he shakes his head. “What happened?”

“Well, I didn’t know if you’d called him this week.... But anyway, he broke his leg.” At seeing the look on Louis’ face, his mom immediately reassures, “He’s back home now, and Anne says he's doing well, so I’m sure it’s fine. But maybe you should visit him, though. It’s probably no fun having a broken leg right at the beginning of summer.”

“Yeah,” Louis replies, staring ahead unfocused. He remembers when he broke his arm skateboarding a long time ago and how much it had hurt. For an omega, he bets the pain must've been ten times worse. All he can picture is Harry in agony with bones sticking out of his skin--out of his leg--and it’s making him feel sick.

Louis’ mom steps forward and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever happened with you two, it’ll be okay, sweetie,” she says softly. “I promise.”

“It’s fine,” Louis answers immediately. “I’ll--I'm gonna ride my bike over.”

“Okay.”

Abandoning Ted, Louis’s out the door in the next second, and his mom watches him take off down the porch, run into the garage, and hop on his bike.

“Be back before supper!” she yells as Louis’ already pedaling away.

It’s a fifteen-minute trip. Always has been. Louis doesn’t even have to think about directions. He just lets his feet go. It helps him forget about how truly freaked out he is that Harry’s leg is broken and that he’s been the shittiest person ever for not having the balls to just find some way to talk to him to say the word sorry after all this time.

He scowls at his own thoughts. Alphas aren't supposed to be this...concerned all the time. He tries to get rid of the weird worry-lines on his forehead and just focuses on not hitting any cars.

Once Louis reaches Harry’s road, he follows the long row of townhomes until he finds the familiar one with all the pretty flowers out front. He throws his bike in the front bushes away from the nicer plants and runs up the steps, but when he reaches the front door, he pauses.

His hands are freakin’ sweaty, and he can hear his own heart. Jesus.

Maybe ‘cause this’ll be the first time he's really talked to Harry since February and Harry most likely isn’t even gonna want him here anyway. Still. He takes a deep breath, flicks his hair out of his eyes even though he has it sort of spiked up today, and turns the doorknob. It’s locked. Even in this neighborhood, that’s strange. He bangs on the door a few times.

Gemma opens the door a few moments later, and when she sees Louis, she drops her mouth slightly before she looks over her shoulder. Louis follows her line-of-vision: Anne is on the little patio off of the living room bending over tiny containers of plants, patting down soil. The home is short enough to see right through. She doesn't look up.

Gemma scrunches her face a bit once she turns back around. “My mom said you could come over?”

Louis lifts an eyebrow. “What, I gotta have permission now?” he laughs. When Gemma doesn't laugh back, he ends it in a nervous chuckle. She’s being serious. “I mean, my mom talked to your mom on the phone, like, twenty minutes ago, so…”

Not saying anything, Gemma stares. Louis stares back, keeping his resolve, but inside, all the wild hopes he’s had that this whole kissing thing will just be forgotten fall to the floor and crack.

The family knows. They probably all hate him now.

When Gemma widens the door, Louis steps inside so she can close it again. To Louis’ right is a tiny bathroom, and to his left is the boxed-in kitchen Louis already knows is currently spotless. Ahead, at the end of the narrow entryway Louis’s now following Gemma down, is bigger space the family uses as both a dining and living room. Louis stops to look around.

The room’s cramped like it’s always been. The furniture’s too big. When Louis was younger it used to be cozy, but now it sort of feels stifling. At least it's all familiar. Nothing at all is new except a small plywood desk behind the dining room table. On top of it is Louis’ old computer, but it’s currently off. Even though Harry hasn’t gotten online to chat with Louis anymore, he’s still glad he suggested to his mom that Harry have it. He deserves nice things.

There’s the click of a door opening, and then Anne steps into the room with her hands on her hips. She smiles as big and brightly as the sun and says, “Louis,” before opening up her arms.

Louis can’t help but smile back, even if he feels bad for some reason. When he walks up to hug her, she grabs on tight, just like Harry always does.

“Long time, no see, huh?” she asks, squeezing him. They share a look before she breaks eye contact and lets him go, and Louis stands silent. He doesn’t really know what to say to that.

Then he hears fingers snapping, and he jolts. Gemma’s at the bottom of the stairs a few feet away, waiting on him. “He’s in his room,” she tells him.

“I could’ve guessed that,” Louis replies, quickly following her up the steps. He waves again to Anne before disappearing completely to the second floor.

“Smartass.”

“That’s me.”

When Gemma reaches the upper level of the townhouse, instead of talking any more, she just walks into her own bedroom. Louis sees a guy in a baseball cap sitting on Gemma’s bed before she shuts the door.

When Louis takes the few extra steps to reach Harry’s bedroom door, he peeks inside and sees Harry lying propped up in his bed wearing a white tank-top and a pair of plaid boxers, laughing around a spoon in his mouth. There’s a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in his hand, and with glossy eyes and a huge grin, he’s staring ahead at a television set that’s playing some baseball movie. Because of the position of the bed, he can’t see Louis yet, so Louis has time to hide the brightness in his own eyes and push down the weird and sudden thought of kissing Harry again before he lightly knocks on the door and pushes it open.

He feels a strange ache in his chest when Harry looks over, notices him, and with wide eyes, sits up fully and exclaims with a wad of ice cream in his mouth, “Louis! I didn’t know you were comin’ over!”

Louis’s pleasantly surprised--and also really, really confused--to see Harry so excited. He tries not to show it, but his face breaks out into a grin. It's almost like nothing's ever changed. He was expecting a much different reaction.

“We literally just got back from the beach, so I didn’t call or anything,” he answers kind of out-of-breath, still smiling while moving a nonexistent bit of hair away from his eyes.

“Oh, tha’s okay, I’m glad, I meant it in a good way,” Harry happily slurs a bit, shrugging. He moves his butt to the side and pats the spot next to him.

Louis stares at Harry’s face, and his smile falters a bit. Harry’s clearly taken some type of weird painkiller or something judging from his speech. And his goofy face. And his smell. So that’s probably why he’s acting so cheerful. Not because he’s actually happy to see Louis.

Oh, well.

Louis can act. He can do this. He can be...normal. Harry’s still his best friend. They’ve known each other for their whole lives, just about.

He takes a deep breath and steps fully inside the room.

Walking towards Harry’s bed, Louis whistles at the sight of Harry’s propped-up leg. He tries not to look at anything else, but since Harry _is_ only in his underwear, he can’t help it. At least it looks like Louis’s staring at the cast. “You really went and broke the whole freakin’ thing, didn’t you?”

Harry looks sheepish as he shrugs. “Just the tibia, see? Just the bottom.”

The way Harry says it is hilarious. Louis just stares at Harry’s face before cracking up. “Just the tibia,” he mocks.

“Yes,” Harry agrees dopily. He giggles. Louis’s missed the sound.

Louis walks until he’s at the foot of the bed and then carefully crawls up it until he’s in between the wall and Harry. He sticks some pillows behind his back just like Harry’s doing until he’s propped up, too, then he just stares ahead at the television. He feels a little awkward, like he needs to say sorry before he'll feel okay again, but he can’t. When Dusty meows at him and immediately moves from the top of the pillow behind Harry’s head to sit directly on Harry’s stomach, Louis feels even worse. He reaches out to pet him, but Dusty just turns around so his tail faces Louis, instead.

Louis sighs and looks around. Just like downstairs, nothing has really changed in Harry’s room. Louis’s always liked it, but he really wishes that Harry could have a room as big as his own. He’s never realized just how tiny it really is. With how tall Harry’s gotten this year, Louis doesn’t even know how he can manage to sleep on this tiny full-size bed and still be comfortable.

“When’d you get a TV?” Louis finally breaks the silence.

Harry has to swallow before he answers. “It’s Gemma’s. Put it in here for me so I can watch stuff.”

“Cool.” Louis watches what he really thinks is Rosie O'Donnell and Madonna dancing in a bar and listens as Harry laughs louder. “What even is this?”

“A League of Their Own.”

“Oh. Never heard of it.”

“There’s no crying in baseball!” Harry yells, looking at Louis expectantly. Louis shrugs and tries not to laugh at Harry’s face.

“I thought you were an actor,” Harry replies in an accent Louis can’t place, settling in a little closer to Louis. “This--” he points to the television adamantly-- “is pure gold, and anyone into theater at all needs to see it. Look--look at the moves, Lou. I bet I would break my other leg if I tried to dance like that,” he laughs.

Louis smiles. He watches along with Harry for a few minutes, and yeah, he laughs a bit, too. Maybe he’s just imagined the weird feeling in the air. Maybe he's the one who's made it weird to start with. “So how’d you break your leg?” he asks.

“Fell out a tree at Zayn’s.”

“Damn, Haz. That sucks. Are you okay?”

Harry just keeps happily eating his ice cream, absentmindedly petting his cat every now and then, too. Louis’s noticed that he’s slowly been leaning more and more into Louis’ side the more they lay there together, so that makes him happy. “Well. I broke my tibia.”

“Yeah...stupid question,” Louis chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “So how long you gotta wear the cast?”

“They still don’t know. Maybe just a few months.”

“Oh,” Louis says softly. “Well, that’s good, I guess. When Mom told me you were in the hospital, I...” He trails off without finishing his sentence. For the first time that Louis can ever remember, he doesn’t know what else to say to Harry that doesn’t sound dumb. “So...uh. What’re you gonna do this summer?”

“Umm...” Harry looks like he’s deep in thought. “I was thinking that maybe I’d get real good at racing bikes. Or I could enter pogo-stick jumping competitions in the city. Or maybe! ...Maybe kick-boxing.”

Laughing, Louis holds back the urge to push Harry’s shoulder. “You’re such a dork.”

Louis looks down at the hard plaster covering Harry’s leg from the knee to the foot, at his weirdly cute toes sticking out the end of it, and then back up to his face. He always eats so freaking slowly, and Louis smiles just watching him.

Harry’s even smiling as he eats, clearly in discomfort from a broken leg but happy anyway. Louis knows it’s impossible because he was at the beach during the time, but he wishes he could’ve just been with Harry on the day it happened to keep him from getting hurt. Harry’s never fallen out of a tree whenever they’ve climbed them together.

But, still. Here he is. Broken leg and smiling while eating ice cream in bed. Harry’s the most positive person Louis’s ever known. He wishes that he himself had made Harry this happy and not the stupid medicine he can tell he’s been taking. He wishes he could kiss Harry again and have him smile in this very same way after they were done, not look so scared like he had last time.

He can’t do that, though. He shouldn’t even be thinking it. Harry’s so...young. He doesn’t think the things that Louis thinks. And he absolutely can’t know what Louis thinks. Louis knows that Harry doesn’t know the kinds of things Alphas say about omegas when they’re not around. And he wants to make sure he never finds out about those things or has to hear them himself. Louis’ll gladly protect Harry for the rest of his life, punch any Alpha in the face if he has to, just to keep Harry as happy as he is right now.

Damn. Louis doesn’t know where all of these...feelings...have suddenly come from. They need to stop, though. He can’t think like this. He can’t say he wants to protect Harry from dirty Alphas if he’s one of those Alphas himself. That would make him a hypocrite. And he’s forgetting the most important part--Harry doesn’t even think of Louis like that.

Suddenly, Harry pauses and looks at Louis. He rubs his cheek. “...Do I have somethin’ on my face?”

Louis shakes his head. He reaches out and tugs on a strand of Harry’s hair. “When’d your hair get so curly?” he asks. Even though he tries not to, he can’t keep himself from touching Harry in some way. He’s gross.

Harry sticks out his tongue. “When’d yours get so full of gel?” he retorts straightaway.

Louis’ mouth drops open in fake offense, making Harry grin before he goes back to eating his ice cream.

“Gosh--I’m gonna geh so fat if I kee’ layin’ aroun’ eatin’ all dis,” he says with a full mouth. He smiles as he says it, making liquid run down his chin. “But i’ss all I wan’. ‘M sta’ving.”

“Then you shouldn’t care,” Louis easily tells him before he shifts on the bed. “If you’re hungry, you’re hungry, right?”

Louis digs in his pocket for the sharpie he’d seen on the carpenter’s table in his garage and brought over on a whim, sticks the end of it in his mouth, and bites off the tip. As he leans forward and starts drawing on Harry’s cast, his nostrils flare a bit, and not from the stench of the marker. He freezes. Someone else has been on the bed, and he’s only just noticed now.

Which means someone else must’ve seen Harry in his underwear, too.

In the middle of taking a bite of ice cream, Harry holds his spoon still. “What?” he asks cluelessly. “You keep doin’ somethin’ and then stoppin’.”

Louis shakes his head and looks at Harry’s cast. “Jeez, Haz, there’s barely any room left to write. Everyone’s signed it already.”

“In the hospital,” Harry answers Louis’ unasked question.

“And here in your room, too,” Louis can’t help but add on, sniffing a little more.

“Yeah, Zayn and Niall came by this morning,” Harry says. The way his tongue sticks out a little before he sticks his spoon back in his mouth makes Louis stare at his mouth before turning his attention back to Harry’s cast.

“Who’s Niall?” Louis asks. Just as he does so, he sees Niall’s name on Harry’s cast. He’s drawn his name in large, neat cursive. Beside it, Louis quickly draws a skateboard and a little guy on top of it.

“Ughh, I feel so weird,” Harry interrupts Louis at the same time he puts his empty ice cream container on the table beside his bed and rubs his belly. “This medicine they gave me makes me feel sick all the time.”

“Yeah, I can smell it,” Louis comments quietly.

Harry scooches further back on the bed and gives Louis more room to sign the cast. “You can smell that I feel sick?”

“No--well, yeah, but--I meant, like, I can smell the medicine.”

Harry burps and then covers his mouth as he giggles. “You’re magic. What can’t you smell?”

Louis stares at Harry’s face for a few seconds and then looks down again. He doesn’t want to answer, and he knows Harry’s being sarcastic, anyway. It’s just--he can smell lots of stuff. Always can, really, but especially when Harry’s around, like every little odor coming from Harry at all makes its way up Louis’ nostrils and into his head until he can’t think straight. Like the sweat bunched up at the bottom of Harry’s back right now, and the weird stale smell coming from his mouth from the medicine he’s been taking, and the small build-up of oil on his hair.

But he doesn’t want to tell Harry he can smell any of that. That would mean maybe hurting Harry’s feelings and also having to admit that he actually likes those smells, which would make him sound insanely weird. He is insanely weird. He’ll admit it. He has turned into the biggest weirdo.

God, he wishes he could turn his brain off.

Louis gives his attention again to the tattooed, red plaster covering Harry’s right shin, this time writing his name so it’s bigger and more noticeable than Niall’s.

“So who’s Niall?”

“You know Niall,” Harry replies. When Louis just stares at him blankly, he continues, “Niall. Blonde Niall. He looks like he’s out of a surfer magazine.” Harry puts his hands to the side like he’s riding a surfboard and laughs.

“He looks like an idiot,” Louis mutters under his breath. Louder, he says so Harry can hear, “Yeah, I remember him. You hang out with him a lot.”

Harry shrugs before closing his eyes and leaning his head back on his pillow. “I mean. Sometimes. He has a lot of friends.”

“He’s nice to you?”

Eyes still closed, Harry smacks his lips involuntarily. “Yeah, he’s a nice Alpha.”

Louis tries not to snort. “What’s he like? How come you’ve never...like, brought him around?”

Harry opens his eyes and yawns. “He’s busy all the time. He’s, like, the busiest person I know. He travels a bunch. And he’s into really weird music. One of his cousins from California follows bands around the country when they play and stuff, and Niall just left with her to go to Vermont or something. So he stopped by before he left to give me that,” Harry finishes in a bit of a slur, gesturing to his pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

“Oh,” Louis mumbles. “Cool.” He feels stupid for not bringing over a gift for Harry, too.

When Louis’s done signing Harry’s cast, he sits back up. “Your room’s freakin’ cold as crap.”

“Nuh uh. I don’t think it’s cold. And I just ate ice cream.”

“Maybe it’s my sunburn,” Louis mutters with a shrug. He gets off the bed and walks to Harry’s closet. “D’you care if I get a hoodie from you? It’s seriously freezin’ in here.”

Harry answers as he nods and yawns, “Why’re you asking? You’re already getting one. But, yes. You may. How long were ya gonna stay?” Harry starts laughing. “That rhymed.”

“I’m gonna--stay--forever,” Louis says while jumping up to the top shelf in Harry’s closet to pull down a sweatshirt. Three of them fall down as he does so.

“Yayyy, then you can take a nap with me.”

As Louis pulls one of Harry’s black hoodies over his head and walks back to the bed, he sees Harry’s eyes are closed again. Louis takes the opportunity to lower his head and sniff the fabric of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. He keeps his smile to himself as he unfolds the blanket at the foot of the bed and covers Harry up, then he climbs back into bed, too.

Something tells him he shouldn’t get under the same covers as Harry, but he does, anyway. As Louis settles himself under the lightweight blanket, he scoots close to Harry until Harry rests his head against Louis’ shoulder. Louis feels the same warmth run all in his blood that he did when they’d kissed, like lightning almost. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else except Harry’s loudly beating heart.

It’s so bad. All of it is so bad. The things he’s been thinking lately go way beyond friendship.

Louis stares at Harry’s ceiling for minutes upon minutes, wishing that Harry were a little farther away from him and wishing he were closer both at the same time. He smells really, really good. It’s gonna get him in trouble if he lets himself smell it too much.

Now, Louis beyond hates himself. He despises himself.

“Lou?”

The voice startles Louis. He backs up his torso so he isn’t touching Harry below the waist anymore. “Huh?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Oh.” Louis breathes out the breath he didn’t know he had breathed in, and he relaxes. “Me, either.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? I’m not sleepy. I’m just laying here with you.”

Harry backs away, too, and turns the best he can on his side so he’s looking at Louis with his head rested on a pillow. “This really sucks,” he whispers, frowning. He scratches his neck. “I feel so bad. And itchy and hot and hungry again. The medicine sucks.”

Again, Louis feels drawn to touch Harry, so he does. Just for a second, though. He is hot, like maybe he has a fever. He doesn’t smell, like, an infection or anything, so that’s good. He just wants Harry to smile again. “Can you sit up?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, sit up for a minute. We can play tic-tac-toe on your cast. Maybe it’ll make you forget how bad you feel.”

As Harry difficulty situates himself in an upright position again, Louis asks, “You’re hungry, though? Want some more food first?”

“No,” he declines, putting a hand over his stomach. “My belly’s all full anyway, and it hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he mutters. Then he holds out the sharpie to Harry. “Here. You go first,” he tells Harry, staring at the little swell of his stomach.

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking rapidly all of a sudden before finally accepting the marker. “Sorry. Um. What’d you say?”

“You can go first,” Louis suggests.

Harry narrows his eyes. “No, you go first. I bet you have some trick and that’s why you want me to go first.”

Louis smirks. “Nice to know what you think of me.”

Harry just giggles. Louis makes an “X” right in the middle of the board that’s hastily been drawn on Harry’s cast, and Harry and Louis pass the marker back and forth until Louis wins.

Harry’s cast has three different tic-tac-toe games on it when Harry finally gets tired enough to rest again. When he lays back down, muttering, “You cheated,” Louis feels hot enough to take off the hoodie but comfortable enough to keep it on because Harry’s fingers wrap around the little string and make Louis want to fly to the moon.

He’s thinking of just going ahead and taking a nap himself when beside him, Harry gasps before his eyes open widely. Harry’s face changes from looking like he’s just remembered something to almost on the verge of panic.

Louis tries to sit up. “What? What is it?”

“Louis," he rushes out. “How did you get up here?”

Blinking in confusion, Louis just stares at Harry. “What are you talking about?”

“In my room,” Harry quickly clarifies. “In the house. How did you get in?”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow. “Your sister answered the door…”

Harry uses his hands to push himself upright. “Oh, my God. How long have you been here?”

Louis stares up at Harry in disbelief, pushing himself all the way up now, too. “Harry,” he starts saying louder, “are you, like--? Is this medicine messing you up?”

Instead of answering, Harry shifts his body so one leg is off the bed, groaning. “Oh, my God. Is my dad home?”

Louis shakes his head and shuffles himself off the foot of the bed to walk around it. “I didn’t see the car outside. But your mom’s here. And your sister’s right in her room, too. What do you need?”

As he walks closer to Harry, he can smell Harry literally about to get sick. As he lunges for the trashcan in the corner, he holds it out to Harry and says in a hurry, “Harry, you’re freaking me out, what’s going on? What do you need me to do?”

Instead of accepting the trashcan from Louis’ hands, Harry reaches in front of him and digs around in his nightstand drawer, and Louis can’t see anything. When Harry brings his hand back up, Louis barely realizes what it is before Harry’s already brought the object to his mouth and has started to breathe in loudly.

Harry collapses back on the bed, and Louis drops the little plastic trash can before climbing back on the mattress next to Harry.

“Just breathe, Haz,” Louis says as calmly as he can. “Let the medicine work.”

Harry just groans again.

Louis can’t stop watching Harry’s face. He looks like he’s miserable, and it absolutely sucks. Louis feels like it’s his fault somehow. He could’ve kept Harry as happy as he was earlier, but he’s failed.

“Why did you start panicking?” he asks quietly.

Harry shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Louis can tell he's lying, but he doesn't want to make anything worse. He just moves to lie back down beside him and tries to be calm so Harry stays calm, too.

Harry turns his head on the pillow to look at Louis again. Louis rests his head on the pillow he was just using and looks at Harry looking at him. It’s probably three whole minutes before Harry speaks, and the question isn’t something Louis’s expecting.

“Why did you come here?”

Louis blinks a few times before answering. “To see you.”

“Did you really?”

This medicine has really messed Harry up. “Well, yeah, Harry. Of course I did.”

“But why?”

Louis doesn’t look away from Harry, but he wants to because he’s confused. What does Harry mean, why?

“You think I’m a really bad omega, don’t you?”

“I don’t think that at all,” Louis immediately answers. God, he wants to read Harry’s mind. What’s going on in there? Underneath all the weird medicine, what is he really thinking? Harry keeps staring at him until Louis can see his eyes fill up with water, and he scrunches his eyebrows. “Hey, I don’t think you’re a bad omega at all,” he tells him again. “I just wanted to come over and see you, Haz. ‘Cause I’ve..you know. Missed you.”

Harry just turns to face his head the other way.

Louis can’t do anything right.

“I’m sorry,” Harry finally says. “I’m really sorry.”

“For wh--? Don’t be,” Louis answers.

“I know I’m being a baby,” Harry sniffs, “but could you hold my hand until I go to sleep?”

As nonchalantly as he can, Louis replies, “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

So he does. Louis finds Harry’s hand, and he holds it as he listens to Harry fall asleep next to him.

What the fuck is he going to do.

Louis’s starting to feel really awful for thinking of Harry in the way that he has been. Harry’s...Harry. It should be Louis’ job to protect him, not be an Alpha that he needs protection from. He hates himself. He freakin’ hates that he can’t stop his thoughts from being so creepy.

Harry’s injured. And he’s younger. And innocent. And it’s all wrong.

He just smells so good, though. He lets himself become covered in the comfortable scent, and despite not even being tired, Louis ends up dozing off beside Harry.

He doesn’t awaken again until much, much later when he feels Harry shivering next to him. When he shakes Harry awake, Harry opens his eyes, and they’re dilated.

When Harry lies back on his back, the first instinct Louis has is to lean in closer to Harry, but once they’re face-to-face, right when Louis’s about to kiss him without even asking first or knowing what he’s even doing, he pauses. Harry’s breathing is suddenly so labored Louis thinks he could be having an actual full-blown panic attack, and he backs away. He looks at Harry’s sweaty face before furrowing his eyebrows. “Jesus, Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry shakes his head. “Hurts,” he gets out. “Oh, my God, Louis, it freakin’ hurts so bad....”

Immediately, Louis cranes his neck to scan Harry’s nightstand. “Where’s your medicine at? Wait--is it your chest or your leg? Do you need your inhaler again or…”

The noise of pain Harry lets out after that makes Louis jolt upright. “Shit, hold on, I’ll go get your mom--”

Harry clutches Louis’ forearm to keep him from leaving. “No!”

“Harry, let me--you’re freaking me out--”

“No, don’t go, I--I hurt,” Harry whines again. His lips are all turned down in pain.

“Then I need to--Haz, you…I gotta...go...gotta get...” Louis’ speech has turned just as slow as Harry’s, and he doesn’t know why. It almost feels like that time he was stung by a bee and had a bad reaction, everything slow and liquidy and Louis can’t think. He and Harry lock eyes and stare at one another, and Louis desperately wants to make the look on Harry’s face go away.

He looks down at Harry’s leg--and he doesn’t even make it to the cast before his eyes bulge. Harry’s boxers are all big. Louis blinks very quickly and backs away until he’s against the wall. “Harry, why’re you--you’re--”

Harry’s got sweat on his upper lip, and his cheeks are bright red, and now it makes sense.

Harry thrashes his head back and forth. “Owww…”

“Harry!” Louis has no clue what to do. He’s never seen this happen before. All he knows is that he’s absolutely not to touch an omega when they’re like this. Not Harry. He’s terrified.

Louis covers his nose and mouth with both of his hands. “You know how to...make it better, don’t you?” he asks. His voice is all muffled. He doesn’t know if Harry can even hear him.

Harry rolls over halfway onto his stomach, and, in doing so, changes the entire atmosphere of the room.

Louis immediately throws the itchy, hot sweatshirt that’s clinging to his body onto the floor, and it’s then that Gemma barges inside so quickly the bedroom door crashes against the wall.

Gemma lunges for Louis’ arm and pulls him off the bed, not even watching out for Harry. Louis’ teeth feel really sharp on his bottom lip, and the sides of his mouth are wet. Everything’s slow, and he can’t move.

“Come on, Louis, move,” Gemma says impatiently. “Mom! MOM!” She keeps tugging Louis’ arm. “Get off the bed, Louis!”

In the next minute or hour--Louis doesn’t know--Anne’s in the room spraying an aerosol can side-to-side until the room fills up with a mist so thick it makes Louis’ throat swell up until he chokes.

“Mom, Harry’s gonna hurt himself--look, he’s not supposed to be--”

“Louis,” Anne starts, “could you stand out in the hall, please?” She keeps spraying the room until Louis’ throat waters, but he finds that he can breathe again somehow, so he looks at her and nods.

* * *

 

 

Outside, Louis’s sitting on his bike on the sidewalk. The sun is already down low, and he doesn’t know what to say as he looks up at Gemma and Anne looking down at him from the stoop in front of their home. “I--”

“You don’t have to apologize, Louis,” Anne interrupts. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Louis can’t even look at her. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“He’ll be just fine,” Anne answers sweetly. She walks down a few steps and looks at him gently.

“But...Are you sure?...His leg...”

She sighs. “His leg is broken, which...I’m sure is very unpleasant. But the medicine he’s taking should help all of this. Thanks so much for stopping by. Please tell your mom I said hi.” Anne keeps walking forward until she puts her hand on Louis’ cheek and then takes a step back.

She watches as Louis rides away.

 

* * *

 

Louis is in his own house for an entire ten seconds before his mom suddenly rounds on him, walking from the kitchen into the foyer so quickly it actually scares Louis.

“What did you do!?” she demands, inches from his face.

Louis startles and then pauses, perplexed and defensive. He has no clue how he made it home or how long it took him to get here, but now he wants to leave again. He takes a step back and looks at his mom from foot-to-head. “Uh, I didn’t do anything, Mom...”

Jay steps even closer with flared nostrils. “You’re lying. Louis, you’re lying,” she utters in disbelief. She looks more worried than Louis can ever recall her ever being. “Oh, Louis, oh Louis. Louis.” Her hands rise to her cheeks. “What have you done?”

Austin quickly shuffles into the foyer and puts his arm around Jay’s waist. He tries to pull her to the side. “Come on, hon, calm down,” he entreats, but she just pushes his hands away.

“You were with Harry during a heat, Louis,” Jay accuses in a whisper, both hands now over her mouth.

“No, I--I wasn’t! I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh, Louis…”

“Mom, I didn’t--I swear!”

Austin and James are now in the entryway. Jacob’s watching from a distance, standing at the kitchen doorway holding Conor.

“You smell just like him, son...Oohhh, no,” she keeps lamenting.

“Well, I was just beside him when--”

Her eyes look livid. “You’re never to do that! You--! Louis--!”

At this point, Louis flashes his eyes before storming away from the front door and away from all the adults accusing him of doing something he did not do. “What the hell, Mom! You’re the one who pushed me out the door to go see him!”

“And when you noticed he was in heat, that’s when you should’ve left, Louis! Haven’t you listened to anything I’ve told you?”

James intervenes and steps in front of Jay. “Guys. Compose yourselves.”

“He wasn’t even in heat until I left!” Louis defends, already at the staircase now.

“Stop yelling at your mother,” Austin says.

Louis’s so mad that there are tears in his eyes. “She’s freakin’ crazy! She needs to be yelled at!”

“Why don’t you go to your room for now, and we’ll talk about it later,” Austin suggests.

“Don’t tell me what to do! You’re not even my dad!”

And then there are loud voices, babies crying, little ones asking questions, and Louis slamming his bedroom door. It’s maybe an hour later that he smells dinner, and he waits until someone knocks on his door to tell him it’s ready, but they never do. Eventually he hears his sisters’ loud footsteps barging up and down the hall, and he knows that they’ve already eaten without him.

Louis knows they’ve all been fed first because that’s what his mom’s been doing these days because it’s summer. It’s summer, and there are no real rules, and his mother says it’s easier to just give them their dinner and then do their baths before relaxing and eating herself.

Sometimes he eats with his sisters and sometimes he eats with the grown-ups, but he guesses he wasn’t invited at all tonight.

He walks outside his bedroom and sits on the top of the stairs just smelling and listening to the adults eating. He won’t go down there until they’re all finished. He just hopes that once they leave the table, there will still be food left for him. What a shitty start to the summer. He doesn’t get his mom’s moods, and he’s tired of her taking things out on him just because she’s close to her rut or something. He’ll never treat his kids like she treats him. Louis wants to run away.

As Louis sulks unmoving with his arms folded, he hears metal utensils clank against plates until his uncle James clears his throat. “Don’t you think you’re bein’ a little hard on the kid, sis?”

Louis’ mom is silent. Louis feels like an animal at night-time, listening intently to any little sound anyone’s making. His sisters are behind them in their rooms jumping around to some stupid boy band whose songs they’ve spent all week making dances to and repeating over and over and over, but he can still hear everyone downstairs, and that’s all that matters. He can’t stand when people talk about him when he’s not around.

“He’s going into the ninth grade,” James continues. “There’s really nothing wrong with him acting that way with omegas, you know.”

“I’m not saying there is.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Unless Louis hears incorrectly, nobody says anything for a very long time. Then he hears his uncle James speak again.

“I mean, no one’s wanted to talk about it before because of some reason or another, so why not now?"

“Because he’s upstairs,” Louis’ mom answers.

“Yeah, probably masturbating with his door locked.”

“James!”

“What?”

“I’d rather have him in there alone than the alternative.”

“Come on, Jay,” James groans. “But a few years ago it was oh-so-cute? You and Anne holding hands and dreaming of mating ceremonies while--”

“A few years ago it wasn’t this serious,” his mom interrupts quietly.

“What, the mark?”

“Yes,” she hisses as Louis struggles to hear and follow along.

“Well, what did you think would happen?” James asks.

It’s silent again for a long time, and someone says something Louis can’t hear.

“Anyway, a few years ago Anne’s mate didn’t disapprove so much, did he? Now the message is very clear.”

“So that’s why you’ve been so mean to him?”

“I haven’t been mean,” Louis hears his mother retort sharply. There’s a pause and then she says, “Shut up. Look, I can see Des’ point. I deliver babies to scared teenaged omegas on a weekly basis. I’m with them throughout their whole pregnancies. Not to mention, I’ve lived it, too, and it’s not easy at all being an unbonded--”

“But Harry wouldn’t be unbonded,” James interrupts.

Louis’ mom sighs. “He’s still ridiculously young.”

“You and I were ridiculously young when we went out and hooked up with omegas--sorry, babe--and we turned out fine.”

“I turned out a single, teenage mother,” Jay corrects, “who wasn’t aware of the repercussions of engaging in physical activities my body was ready for but my brain was not.”

“Jesus, Jay, been reading a thesaurus lately?” he asks, and Louis wants to laugh, but he’s pissed off, so he doesn’t. “Look, it ended up creating your son--”

“Whom I love more than my life! I just don’t want him--or Harry--to have to go through that, too. That’s it! As we’re all adults here, I don’t understand how I’m not being understood.”

“Look, sis, with all due respect, this is a pretty unique situation, yeah? Separating them--”

“I’m respecting his father’s wishes,” Louis’ mom booms out in her Alpha voice. “End of story.”

Apparently the ear-ringing doesn’t faze his uncle James like it does Louis because he keeps on speaking, and now Louis is so into the conversation he’s travelled halfway down the staircase step-by-step on his ass.

“I know, Jay, but c’mon --do you really think--”

“It doesn’t matter! If his mate’s father doesn’t approve of something, then why would I try to rock the boat before they’re even graduated?”

James is talking with his mouth full now. “Because you’re the Alpha, not him.”

“They’re just so extremely young, guys,” Austin speaks up. “I know you two have your own opinions on things because you’ve tried so hard for a child of your own--”

“That’s not it at all,” James says too quickly. “I’m a doctor, Austin. I specialize in the heart. Mate-separation is the number one--”

“You’re a trauma surgeon,” Louis’ mom corrects.

“Who deals with heart-related trauma dealing with mates all the time,” James clarifies.

“By high school, he’s going to yearn for a child,” Jacob says quietly.

“From a therapist, this is not very helpful, you know,” Jay sighs.

“That wasn’t my--”

James interrupts, “We’re facing you with the facts.”

“I know the facts! I know the facts, and I’m making my decisions based on what I think is best for everyone. I love Harry like family--hell, he is family, and what’s best for him is not to wind up pregnant in high school. Or before high school!”

“I get that, but why separate ‘em? It’ll just make things worse.”

“I’m not trying to separate them at all!” Louis’ mom says, now so angry Louis can feel it in his heart. “Why do you think I suggested that Louis go visit him right when we got back today? I knew that being away for so long would’ve been rough, and with Harry having a broken leg, how was I supposed to know he was due a heat?! I’m trying here! I’m trying, and none of you are giving me credit for it--”

“You can’t separate ‘em,” James repeats. “You just can’t.”

“I’m--not,” Jay growls. “Were you not listening to what I just said?”

“Yes, and speaking of--if Harry’s father doesn’t approve of it, why was Louis even allowed over there today, hm?”

“He was at work.”

James chortles. “So you orchestrated this rendezvous at a time when you knew he would be out of the house?” He starts mocking her voice: “I don’t want them to engage in pre-bond-sex, nhhnhhnnhh.”

“He works almost all the time,” Jay replies in frustration. “He’s almost always out of the house. But yeah, of course I’m not gonna send Louis there knowing what he could walk into if Des was there. Come on, guys, I’m not trying to make him completely miserable. I like that you all have such a high opinion of me.”

Louis’ mouth is so wide-open, he’s surprised he isn’t drooling. He hears Jacob’s voice next.

“I haven’t said that at all.”

Then Austin speaks up, his voice small and comforting. “Babe…”

“I understand what kinds of things I’m in store for, okay? I get that as mates they’re gonna--”

At this point, Louis doesn’t know if he can even stand listening anymore. The argument is getting too heated, too out of control for him to remain calm any longer with so many Alphas around so agitated, especially because he’s never really calmed down from earlier. He walks upstairs too loudly, not caring if his stomping feet are heard.

He just never realized that Harry’s father didn’t like him. By how his mom sounded, Harry’s father doesn’t just dislike him, though; he hates him. Enough to apparently have gone out of his way to keep Harry from talking to him.

A lot of shit makes sense now, but Louis is left with more bad feelings in his gut now than ever before.

In the form of an apology, his mom delivers a hot plate of food right to his bedroom late, late that night, and they have a long talk. Louis can sort of understand now why she’d act the way she did for so long. Even though she still shouldn’t’ve done it. He and his mom both explain to each other that they didn’t mean what they said earlier, and even though Louis now has to make it up to Austin for being so rude to him, the air between him and his mom is cleared, at least.

It still doesn’t help the situation with Harry.


	6. we've been friends now for a while

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this out quickly cause I already had a bunch of it written. It's more slow back story than action but it will pick back up soon. Also it's just gonna be more in depth since they're getting older now. Just a heads up :) if there are typos I will fix them after I glance over this final draft tonight, but shout at me if you catch them. Thanks for reading!!!

Out of everything that Louis could make out from the conversation his family had about him at dinner, the main words that echo in his head night after night and turn him so determined it almost makes him want to come out of his skin are from his uncle James.

_You’re the Alpha, not him. You’re the Alpha, not him._

Louis chants the sentence inside his head until it almost makes him furious.

Louis is an Alpha. _Louis_. Not Des. Louis is the Alpha, not Des. Louis is the Alpha.

He’s filled with such an obsession to keep seeing Harry that he actually rides his bike over to his house every day after that, just because. He gives himself a good week before actually knocking on the door, though, just to make sure he’s in the clear after Harry’s heat. He wouldn’t want to give Anne or Gemma the wrong impression.

Harry’s dad doesn’t want him seeing Harry, but Louis’s never done anything wrong. Ever. Louis’s never done anything wrong to Harry’s family or to Harry himself, so when he waits until the station wagon out front is missing to approach the door, he feels clean from blame.

Just because he only visits when he knows Harry’s dad is at work doesn’t mean he’s doing anything wrong. If anything, he’s helping. And plus, Harry’s mom never seems to care.

Louis knows Harry doesn’t do anything but lay around and read all day, so he brings him stuff to do. Lends him CDs and DVDs, stuff like that. Sometimes he’ll borrow some of Harry’s movies and music, too, and it gets to the point where they don’t know which is which and whose is whose.

Sometimes Louis stays over long enough to make it through two entire movies in a row, even. Louis soon discovers that Harry has a borderline-obsession with Star Wars and Moulin Rouge, and after a while it becomes obvious that it’s because of Ewan McGregor.

“You know he’s an omega, right?” Louis asks one day. They’re watching some other movie with him in it, and Harry’s just staring at the television barely blinking. He does that a lot, actually--stares without blinking. It’s really cute to Louis.

His eyes are not so cute when he reacts to Louis’ question. “So?”

Louis shrugs. “Just didn’t know you were into omegas, ‘s all,” he says quietly.

“So what if I was?” Harry challenges.

Louis’s afraid he’s hurt Harry’s feelings. He shrugs again. “I didn’t--”

“Alphas are always so weird about omegas liking other omegas,” Harry goes on, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not weird about it. If an omega likes another omega, I don’t care. Fine by me.”

“So you’re just anti-Ewan McGregor? What’s _Ewan_ ever done to _you_?” he asks, rhyming.

Louis can tell Harry’s joking now, and he’s glad. He laughs. “You just like him because he has an accent.”

“I do not! I don’t even like him like that. I just think he’s a lovely person.”

Louis lays back in bed laughing. “I think he’s a lovely person,” he mocks.

Some days all Harry and Louis do is lay around the room not doing much but talking. Just like with the kiss, Louis never brings up Harry’s heat because he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and he hates to bring up his dad, either, but since he’s dying to know what exactly it is about him that his dad disapproves of so much, he asks one day while A League of Their Own is playing again. Louis’s seen it twice now and has not watched it once.

“So...what’s the deal with your dad?” he asks at a particularly boring scene.

“Um. What do you mean?”

“Has he ever, like, I dunno,” Louis says, flicking hair out of his eyes, “said why he doesn’t like me or whatever? Or why he doesn’t like me coming over?”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but Louis can see his face get red. “I don’t think it’s you he doesn’t like,” is all Harry mutters.

 

* * *

 

There’s a hurricane that hits the coast really hard in the middle of July, and it rains non-stop to the point of flooding some neighborhoods. Louis doesn’t come visit Harry for over a week.

Gemma hops on the couch next to Harry and ruffles his hair. “Why’re you so sad? You got your time in with Louis over the weekend, didn’t ya?”

Harry stares out the window. “I can’t go outside, I can’t do anything, and I haven’t talked to, like, any of my friends all summer,” he complains all at once. “Why do you think I’m sad?”

“All that should just make you happier that Louis’s been coming by to see you so much when he’s not even supposed to. He’s risking his life for you, Harry.”

“Shut up,” Harry mutters.

“If I went to an omega’s house all the time knowing their dad didn’t want me to, I would probably have to like that omega a whole bunch,” Gemma hints.

Harry sighs. “It’s not even gonna last. He’s only doing it ‘cause my leg’s broke. And he’s gonna go to your school in two months, anyway, and it’ll just go back to how it was.”

Gemma takes the remote from Harry’s lap and changes the show from SpongeBob to something on E!. “Doesn’t have to.”

“But Dad can--”

“Dad can go back to work and ignore his mate and kids all day, is what Dad can go and do,” Gemma primly remarks.

Harry’s not even depressed. He’s just empty. He can’t feel depressed when he feels nothing at all. “It's so unfair, Gemma. I mean, why does Lou have to sneak over at all when he's my friend? I just don’t get it. I feel like I’m doing something really, really bad every time I see him, and all we do is hang out like normal. I don’t get it,” he repeats. “Dad’s so unfair.”

“Dad’s a douchebag,” Gemma corrects, side-eyeing Harry. “I’ve had two different male omegas over this year and he hasn’t said a thing.”

“See? Why can you have omegas over and I can’t even talk to one Alpha? Louis’s been my friend since I was two.”

“‘Cause Dad’s sexist.” Gemma dips her hand in the bag of chips that Harry has sitting in his lap and throws some in her mouth before adding, “And he’s a giant asshole who wants to punish you for his own mistakes.”

“What mistakes has he even made?” Harry grumbles, finally just giving Gemma the whole bag of Fritos since he’s lost his appetite long ago anyway. “He has a family and a house and a job and what more could anybody ever want? That’s, like, the definition of happiness.”

“Me,” Gemma answers easily.

“Huh?”

“I’m the mistake,” she repeats just as easily.

“I don’t get it.”

Gemma sighs and lounges back on the sofa. “Omegas are crazy fertile. You must know this by now?”

“Um. Yeah…”

“He didn’t mean to knock Mom up,” Gemma bluntly explains when Harry doesn't seem to get it. “Mom was a junior in high school when I was born, so she was just a sophomore when she got pregnant, and Dad was already, like, gross and in his twenties. Mom doesn’t even have a high school diploma ‘cause of me. And Dad was forced to have a mating ceremony with her ‘cause she was pregnant and they weren’t coupled yet, and then I’ve been told she had a complicated delivery with me, and Dad had to spend a lot of money on baby stuff and bills and yadda yadda yadda. So he regrets it all because if he’d’ve just kept it in his pants he wouldn’t’ve been forced to be Mom’s mate or have kids when he never really wanted that in the first place.”

Harry’s quiet for a really long time. “That’s horrible,” he finally whispers. He thinks he would’ve been much happier if he hadn’t known this information. It might be enough to push him over the edge to where he actually cries now. He hasn’t done that in a few weeks, but now he can feel it coming. “Gemma, why would you tell me this? W-what are you trying to say? He didn’t even want me to be born? He doesn’t love us at all?”

“No, of course he does.” Gemma puts a hand on his. “Shh. I mean, he loves us, sure, but the way he acts shows he doesn’t really care. But don’t take it personally. It’s not your fault.”

Harry can’t find it in him to respond. Now he is depressed.

“You should know that just someone is your parent doesn’t make them the greatest person in the world,” Gemma says. “Sometimes parents can suck. Like Dad. And then, sometimes parents can rock. Like Mom.”

“He never even wanted me?” Harry whispers.

Gemma turns to look at Harry. “No, Harry, no. I didn’t mean it like that. I was the accident, not you. Mom’s always wanted kids. You were planned. I wasn’t.”

“But Dad--”

“Dad’s a dick.”

Harry isn’t happy with his dad, but he still can’t find it in him to call him names.

“Look, he’s trying to keep you from talking to Louis because it’s his weird form of controlling you. Don’t even feel bad about what Dad says. You already know you haven't done anything wrong.” She stares at him seriously. “You haven't, have you?”

Harry shakes his head quickly.

“Then don't worry about him,” she finishes, shrugging. “Let me handle it.”

That evening when Harry’s just finished taking a bath with a big trash bag around his cast and is laying back in bed, he hears grunting out in the hall. He’s extremely grossed out thinking it’s his sister in rut, but when he hears unusually loud thumping and banging, too, he finally reaches for his crutches and opens his door.

The entire computer from downstairs is now sitting on the floor by her bedroom door in the hallway. Harry looks over and sees her now at the top of the stairs dragging the entire desk up, and he wants to move forward to help her, but he can’t.

“Ohmigosh, Gem!” he calls out. “You’re gonna break your back!”

“I’m fine, this thing is light,” she groans. Harry sees sweat on her face.

“What are you doin’? Stealin’ it for yourself?”

“No, dummie,” she answers, “I’m putting it in your room.”

“There’s nowhere to even put this all,” Harry mutters, watching Gemma keep dragging the desk into his room. He stands back with his crutches in his hand and feels bad watching her struggle.

“Just--here,” she offers, pulling his nightstand out of the way. “Just put this--here--and--put the desk--here--and--” she dusts off her hands-- “voila. You’re good to go. Now --” she goes back outside in the hall and picks up the computer-- “put this on top, and you’re all set!”

“What’s the point of all this?” Harry asks. “I mean, thank you, but you didn’t have to go through all the trouble. I can still go downstairs on my own. Sort of.”

“It’s so you can get online and talk to Louis,” she explains, rolling her eyes.

“Oh! But…” Harry looks around. “But I don’t have a spot for a cable.”

Gemma’s mad at herself now. “Are you serious?”

“I can play Taipei and Solitaire and stuff,” Harry suggests quickly. “It’s fine.”

“That’s boring.” She contemplates for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Look, I’ll buy a new cord--a long one or a bunch of ‘em or...something. I’ll figure it out. And we can just hook it up to the outlet downstairs like that.”

“Like Mom and Dad will let you have a cord run throughout the entire house. And Dusty will probably claw it all up, anyway.”

“He better not, not if I’m spending my own allowance on it.”

When Harry lays back in bed, he looks around. He’s got his dresser towards the end of the bed with a big television on top of it, and a desk to the right of the bed with a big computer on top of it.

“I feel like the world’s laziest person,” he comments. “Everything just...right here. Do you think you can, like, move the toilet to this end of my bed now, Gem?”

 

* * *

 

Halfway through the summer, Louis keeps regularly visiting Harry’s house when he knows he can get away with it. And when the weather isn’t crappy.

“I come bearing gifts,” Louis announces proudly one day at Harry’s doorway--or as proudly as he can, given that he's out-of-breath from lugging fifteen pounds of video-game equipment across town and now up an entire flight of stairs.

Harry gapes at the big, green box Louis holds in his hands. “Whoa! Is that really what’s in the box?”

“Course it is. And a Nintendo 64 thrown in, too,” Louis adds. “I wasn’t--sure--if you--already had one or not.”

“Whoa,” Harry raves again. He can’t believe Louis keeps coming over with all this stuff for Harry to do--tons of DVDs, a coloring book (meant as a joke but Harry loves it), and now video games. Video game systems. “No, I only have the Super Nintendo here. This is awesome!”

“Took me freakin’ forever to ride my bike over here carryin’ this box,” Louis grunts while walking in the room. Harry stares at his biceps too long and then looks back up to his face after he’s done placing the box on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologizes.

“No, don’t be,” Louis quickly deflects. “No big deal. I was just sayin’, I just would’ve gotten here quicker without it on my lap.” He lifts up the front of his shirt to wipe off the sweat on his forehead, and again, Harry stares. “I want you to have ‘em,” Louis continues when he drops his shirt again. “And if I didn’t bring them today I’d have to wait for someone to give me a ride over here. And who knows when that could be?”

Louis gives Harry a look that makes Harry feel guilty. “Wait. What--? You want me to have what?”

Louis looks at Harry like he’s silly and points to the box he just put down.

“No way.” Harry looks back and forth between the box and Louis. “The X-Box?”

When Louis nods happily, saying, “And the Nintendo, too, if you want,” Harry looks dumbfounded.

“Lou, oh, my gosh,” he whispers. “You can keep it.”

“What, don’t you--You don’t want ‘em?”

“No, I mean, it’s just...That’s a lot of money.”

Louis waves a hand in the air. “They’re yours,” he says brightly, smiling. Harry grins back just as large.

Louis is quickly at work, taking everything out the box and plugging cords into the TV.

“I already guessed you’d want to play Nintendo first,” Louis says with his back turned. He reaches into the box, digs around a little, and then turns back around to Harry. “Sooo...I brought--this.” He holds up MarioKart. In two more seconds, he’s already putting it in the Nintendo to play.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to play?” Harry asks, unsure, even as Louis is already getting the controllers ready. “I know you like to play, like, Halo and stuff like that. We can do an X-Box game first.”

Louis lifts his eyebrows and takes a seat on the bed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, Curly, who d’you think even taught you to play this? I’ll have you know I’m not only secretly obsessed with Mario Kart, but I’m basically, like, a world record holder.”

Harry squints his eyes suspiciously. “I got the Guinness World Records book for my birthday this year. Are you in that?”

“You bet I am.” Louis looks to Harry’s bookshelf. “We’ll have to find my name another time, though. Forget which page it’s on.”

Harry holds out his hand for the controller. “Let's see if you can keep your record, then.”

“Oh-ho, ho! Listen to the big shot here!”

Harry knows Louis’s forgotten how good Harry is at this. They sit on the edge of the bed and go through level after level, and Harry beats Louis in all of them. For once in his life, he’s good at something. It’s ‘cause his family in Pennsylvania have this game, and he’s spent every summer of his childhood playing it for hours on end with his cousins. He sort of feels bad when Louis loses each time, but not really. It’s his own fault he chose to play as Bowser.

Harry’s eyes stay wide and fully concentrated on the television screen, and he’s got the tip of his tongue in the corner of his mouth as he races along the sand. From the corner of his eye, he sees Louis look at him for a minute and maybe even smile, and as he turns his eyes to Louis’ part of the screen, he notices Louis’s just driven off the track and is going backwards.

“Aw, man!” Louis mutters.

Harry watches Louis try to go the right way again, and he gleams. “Sucks to suck, doesn’t it, Lou?” he asks before sticking out his tongue.

Louis pushes Harry’s shoulder with his own. “If you weren’t crippled right now, I’d--”

“Crippled?!” Harry asks incredulously. “You’re just being a sore loser because you don’t wanna admit you suck--”

“I don’t suck, you suck,” Louis interrupts, laughing. “I hold the World Record--”

“Ohh, you do too suck.” Harry cups his hands around his mouth and jeers, “You suck.”

Harry keeps booing in Louis’ ear, and they both almost miss the noise of someone just walking in the front door downstairs. Harry and Louis look at each other in confusion when they hear the dull thud of footsteps downstairs, and, still staring at Louis, Harry’s eyes suddenly get big.

“Your dad’s home,” Louis states the obvious.

“Shoot,” Harry says under his breath, starting to panic and look around. There’s nowhere for Louis to go. “Oh, shoot. Um. Um. Um…What do we do?” he whispers in a rush.

Louis’s already standing up. “I'll hide under the bed.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry agrees, nodding. He breathes out in relief. “He can’t smell. Maybe he won’t be able to tell you’re here.”

“That’s the idea,” Louis says from the floor as drops to the floor and starts crawling.

“Shh!”

“I will shh! You shh!”

With difficulty, Harry pushes himself back on the bed and picks up the bag of chips sitting on his desk to make it look like he’s just lounging around snacking right as his dad walks up the stairs. He’s such a bad actor that he thinks he might just look high. Maybe that’s a good thing, though. Maybe that’s actually believable because of his leg.

His dad stands in the doorway and looks around the room. Harry knows he’s probably just looking in disapproval at all the posters and things he’s taped to the walls, but it feels like he’s examining the space for hidden things. Hidden people. Like Louis. Harry just knows he’s gonna find him. His mouth starts to water randomly, and his heart begins thumping in his chest.

“Hey, Dad.” He’s nervous, and it’s obvious.

His dad steps forward. “So...Harry.”

“So...Dad.” He smiles.

“How you doin’?”

“Um.” Harry looks at his cast. “Good.” A second later, he asks, “How are you?”

“All right.”

Des walks fully into the room now, and Harry can feel his muscles tighten. He’s gonna get in so much trouble. Shoot.

“Here,” his dad says, tossing a long plastic Subway bag on the bed. “I got you lunch.”

Harry swallows all the excess spit that’s formed in his mouth. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem. So. Where’s your mom at?”

Harry pulls out the sub. He always gets the same thing when he goes to Subway, but he doesn't think his dad even knows what his order is. He can already tell it’s not what he normally gets, though, ‘cause it’s cold, and Harry likes his stuff heated up. He won’t complain or anything, though.

“Where’s your mother?” Des asks again.

“Work.”

“How’d she get to work?”

Des just looks down at Harry, and he hates the feeling of being looked down on. He shrugs. “She probably took the bus, I guess. I slept in ‘til one today.”

Des sighs. He walks to the end of the bed, and Harry holds his breath. When his dad decides to sit down at the end of the bed, Harry wants to groan.

Harry notices how his dad’s dress-shirt is all sweaty under the arms and near the collar, and it’s gross. He knows his dad can’t help it, though. It’s hot outside. Still, it’s gross.

“Look, son, I've been meaning to talk to you,” he says, staring ahead at Harry’s closet door.

“Oh...Don’t you--” Harry's voice squeaks so he clears his throat and then tries again. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“I’m fine. I normally take long lunches.”

“Oh. Well, um, if you’re checking on me or anything, I really am fine. I’m just taking my medicine once a day now, and Mom left it out for me already--”

At that, Des turns around to look at Harry. “Your mom gave you access to your medicine?”

Harry looks away. “I mean, she just put the one pill on the desk there before she went to work, I guess. It was there when I got up.”

Des turns around again. He makes some noise in his throat, but Harry can’t concentrate on listening because he’s too focused on getting his dad out of his room. “I don’t really--”

“Harry, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you.”

Harry stares at his father’s back, confused. He wants to be happy that he’s gotten a compliment, but he can’t be. Why has his dad chosen right now to have this conversation with Harry when it’s probably been months since they’ve even said more than a few sentences at a time to each other?

Talking to the wall, his dad keeps going on and on about Harry’s great schoolwork and Harry’s great attitude, and Harry can’t even accept any of the praise. He’s literally misbehaving right at this very minute, right under his father’s nose, and the guilt covers him like a second skin. He’s just so freaking anxious that Louis will sneeze or breathe too loudly or something and give his position away, and with each passing second, his heart speeds up--

Harry lifts his head when his dad turns to look at him again. “Do you understand?”

Not knowing what he’s agreeing to, he nods. “Y-yes. Thanks, Dad.”

“It’s just that sometimes, when people--sometimes when people don’t think about what they’re doing, they get stuck with the consequences. And sometimes the consequences are...hard. So I’m glad you’re doing what you’re doing.”

“Uh.” Harry doesn’t know what this is in reference to, and asking his dad to explain would mean admitting he’s not even listening, so he just says “yeah” again.

“And it’s my job as your father to try to give you a better life than I had, so…”

Ugggh. Harry just wants to get back to the game, wants to feel different than this...gross, muddy feeling that’s running through him. As Harry’s eyes move from his father’s sweaty back to the television placed on the dresser beside the closet, his eyes widen, and he slams a hand on his mouth so his gasp can’t be heard. Though paused, the screen clearly shows two different screens in play, and there are even two separate controllers lying on the floor, obviously hooked up to the console. Craaaaap.

He and Louis weren't thinking. They weren’t thinking at all. Harry's heart beats even faster, and he’s never been more glad that his dad has got such dull senses to not be able to smell Louis right underneath where he’s sitting. Or tell that Harry’s heart is about to give out. Or be able to see that there are clearly two people playing a video game right in front of his freakin’ face and Gemma’s not even home.

“...So that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Oh,” Harry says, relieved that he’s wrapped up his speech. He feels dirty. “Okay.”

Des actually hugs Harry when he walks away, and Harry can’t help it--he holds on for too long and it’s actually very, very pleasant. But also very confusing for some reason. When his dad walks away and out of the room, it’s not until he’s heard exiting the house that Louis crawls out from under the bed.

“What was he so nervous about?” Louis asks. “I thought it was you at first, but he smelled like pure fear.”

Harry stares at the poster of Hanson on the back of his door and starts feeling even more sad. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t get anything that’s going on. Some of the bits and pieces of what Gemma was talking about come back to him, and he’s afraid that something really bad is going on.

“I dunno.” His voice comes out in a mumble. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Things are ruined after that. Louis sits back on the bed, but neither of them say anything. Neither of them resume the game.

“Sometimes I wish I had a different dad,” says Harry. Admitting it out loud makes him want to cry.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says quietly. “You know...I don’t even talk to my real dad. I think I've gotten maybe two birthday cards from him my whole life.”

Harry nods. “I shouldn’t even be complaining. Sorry.”

“Not your fault. I didn't mean to make you sad or anything. I'm just saying--I know the feeling.”

Louis doesn’t stop looking at Harry, and normally that would make Harry feel weird, but it doesn’t. He just looks back.

“It’s so cool when your eyes turn blue,” Louis whispers. He’s smiling really softly at Harry, almost like he feels bad for him, but it doesn’t make Harry feel pathetic, so that’s good. Harry wants him to kiss him, to just lean forward and just--kiss him.

Louis doesn’t.

What Louis does surprise Harry with, however, is a late-night visit that evening when everyone’s already gone to bed.

Harry’s just dozing off when he hears steady tapping on his window, and since it’s luckily right by his bed, he just moves a bit and lifts the curtains out of the way. He thinks he’s dreaming when he peeks out and sees Louis standing in the grass outside. As quietly as he can manage, he lifts up his window.

Louis’ wearing basketball shorts and a t-shirt and is smiling like he hasn’t just seen Harry hours earlier.

“Hey,” he loudly whispers. “Can I come up?”

Harry blinks. “Um. Yes?” he whispers back. “How?”

Louis has already stolen the ladder Harry’s dad keeps in the backyard shed. He points to it. Harry just smiles.

Once he’s climbed into Harry’s room, Louis sniffs the air. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Haz.”

“‘S okay.”

“I meant to tell you earlier that I wanted to come back over tonight. I wanted to give you your CD back.”

“Oh..you could’ve…” Harry just trails off, accepting the little dark plastic square. He's quiet.

Somehow it feels different having Louis in his room at night.

They end up watching a movie together on the bed like usual, but Louis accidentally falls asleep. He doesn’t wake up until the sun’s coming up, and he shakes Harry awake before he says goodbye and tells him he’ll be coming back soon.

Harry just grunts and goes back to sleep. When he wakes up again the next afternoon, he showers and keeps thinking about how much he’s missed falling asleep next to Louis, and whatever bad feeling he had from his interaction with his dad the afternoon before washes away.

Gemma is waiting for Harry on his bed when he gets out of the bathroom fully dressed.

“You sly dog,” she says in disbelief, smirking. “Sneakin’ Louis in the house in the middle of the night.”

Harry frowns as he limps forward. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh?” She lifts her legs onto the mattress, sits back on the bed, and puts her hands behind her head before crossing her ankles. “What’s it like then?”

Harry frowns. He doesn’t want to say anything, but he ends up sighing. He tries to scowl at Gemma, but she probably thinks he looks silly. “Do you promise not to say anything?”

She zips her lips closed. Harry just glares.

“As much as I pick on you and all, you know you can trust me, little bro.”

“I’m breaking, like, a zillion rules,” he mutters. “I’m gonna get in so much trouble.”

“As long as you’re being safe.”

“Huh?”

She raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Ew, Gem, I’m--I’m twelve! It’s not like that!”

“What’s it like, then? You still haven’t told me.”

“It’s just like, when he’s around, I feel so weird all the time, but then when he isn’t around, I still feel weird,” Harry admits in a big rush. “But it’s a different type of weird. It’s bad when he’s away and it’s good when he’s near.”

Gemma heaves a sigh. “That’s helpful. How do you feel when he’s away?”

“Miserable. Like I want to die.”

“Don’t be emo.” She makes a face at Harry as she moves to give him room on the bed.

“Seriously! I sit here on this stupid bed all day long watching musicals and reading Harry Potter, like, to the point where I wanna die because I’m so so bored even though I love Harry Potter and everything, but then all I have to do is see Louis for just a little bit and I’m so happy again.”

“That’s really sweet, Harry,” she says softly. “I thought you said it was still weird when he’s around, though.”

“It is.”

Gemma looks at him expectantly. He just rolls over on the mattress to hide his face. “I think I like him. Like...like-like him.”

“Ya think?”

 

* * *

 

At the end of July, Louis starts his own version of football practice in the backyard with his uncle James. Now that James’ baby is a little older and has finally started regularly sleeping through the night, things around the house are more relaxed again. Jacob and James have finally caught up on their sleep, too, and it definitely shows. They were snippy with each other for a while, and it sort of affected everyone in the house without anyone realizing it.

Now that things are back to normal, James has begun his long shifts at the hospital again for three days in a row before taking four days completely off to be at home with his mate and child. Jacob still hasn’t gone back to work yet, and Louis’ little sisters stay inside with him and Conor almost all day long, holding him and helping out as much as they can. James uses a lot of his free time when Jacob’s napping with Conor to willingly help shape Louis up for what he calls the “Alpha Male Pissing Contest” that Louis’s going to be faced with once starting high school.

On this day, the sun is directly in the middle of the cloudless sky, and sweat drips from Louis’ hair down his cheeks he’s just begun shaving even though there’s really not much need to.

“Now, you’re good and all,” James praises him, “but high school football’s a whole different world. They’re faster, they’re stronger, they hit harder. You gotta be prepared to not only be accurate with your catches and ball-handling but be faster than all the other Alphas chasing you. And do not fumble.”

Louis hops his weight from foot-to-foot before nodding. “Got it.”

For what feels like the zillionth time in a row, Louis hears a whistle, runs and runs and runs, and looks over his shoulder. James waves his hand to indicate that Louis needs to run further, so he does, panting and squinting in the bright light. His uncle lobs a quick and hard pass directly to his chest, but Louis runs too far, and the football flies right through his outstretched hands.

“Shit!” he screams. He wants to yell a lot more. They’ve been at this for an hour now, and it’s hot outside, and Louis keeps freakin’ messing up.

“No worries, man!” his uncle hollers. “We’ll do it again.”

Louis jogs back to his uncle and stands in front of him panting. If he can’t catch a football in his own backyard, there’s no way he’s gonna be able to do it as a freshman all geared-up with a bunch of people watching and even more pressure to perform in front of them.

“Don’t let this get to you,” James coaches. “You’re acting defeated already. How did the great become great? Failure and hard work. Now do it again.” He brings the whistle that’s tied to a string around his neck up to his mouth before situating the football around in his palm.

Louis wipes the sweat off his brow, turns, gets in position, and waits for his uncle’s signal. The whistle blows, and even though his legs and his chest burn, Louis runs as fast as he can. The sun is directly in his eyes again when he turns his head, but he keeps his sights on the football somehow and catches it right before it hits his chest.

“Atta boy!” James hollers. “Whoooooohooo!”

Finally, Louis feels victorious. He’s completely exhausted or else he’d throw the ball back to his uncle, so instead he holds it by his waist as he barely manages a fast walk back to the house, soon collapsing his full body weight in a wrought-iron chair by the backdoor.

“Finally,” Louis sighs, holding his side. He needs to do more cardio. “Finally caught one.”

“I can’t believe I even threw that,” James enthuses. “That had t’ve been at least fifty yards.”

“Yeah, right. Hurt my freakin’ hands,” Louis gripes. James just flexes his muscles as he quietly goes inside to the mini-fridge he keeps in the basement. Immediately, Ted runs outside and shuffles up to Louis.

When James comes back out, he’s still flexing one arm. “A hundred push-ups each night before bed and you can have these guns, too,” he tells Louis.

“Yeah,” Louis mutters, rubbing his hands all over Ted’s face and ears. “Doubt that.”

When James sits down, there’s a tell-tale pop of an aluminum can being opened, and James stage-whispers, “Don't tell Jake,” as he brings the can to his mouth.

Louis immediately assumes it's beer. He turns his head. It's Pepsi.

“He thinks I need to cut back on soda,” James explains. “But sleeping in a hospital and being on-call for so many years... I'm addicted to the stuff. Can’t operate without it. Literally,” he finishes, winking at Louis. Louis rolls his eyes but still smiles.

“So how’s life?” James finally asks. They’ve been sitting in the shade for a while, looking out at the yard, at the sun gleaming off the pool, at the trees. Ted’s panting underneath their chairs.

“Livin’ the dream,” Louis answers. He’s only being a tiny bit sarcastic. Certain things suck, and certain things are very, very good. “How ‘bout you? Is Jacob doin’ better?”

“Oh, yeah,” James says happily. “He’s been great. Omegas don’t get enough credit after child-birth, I’m tellin’ ya. I wouldn’t’ve been able to push that thing out my… you know.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how babies are born.”

James laughs.

“When’s he going back to work?” Louis asks to save him from having to talk too much about giving birth. He knows his uncle can get pretty....descriptive. And it’s a different sort of descriptive than his mother gets.

“I'm trying to convince him to retire, actually. He worries about his clients so much, and I can provide well enough for the family on my own,” he mumbles, then sighs. “But I think the best option would be for him to open a private practice so he can make his own schedule because he loves his work so much. We could even build something on the property here. I've already looked at dimensions for it and everything.”

“Here?” Louis asks, pointing down at the ground. “Here, here?”

“Yeah,” James says enthusiastically. “There’s space. Put a little waiting room in there, a nice little cozy entrance, and then his office. It’ll be so comfortable, people would tell him all their secrets,” he chuckles.

“I wonder what kinds of things he knows. I wonder what the grossest thing someone’s ever told him is. I’m gonna ask him.”

James shakes his head. “He can’t. He can’t talk about it, not even to me. He deals with a specific type of clientele, anyway. Between you and me,” he says quieter, “it's a bunch of rich politician's mates who’re cheating and can’t deal with their own problems they’ve caused.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “That’s awful.”

James shrugs. “People cheat. You know, lots of the yuppies who live in this neighborhood are so unhappy with their lives it’s unreal.”

“Really? We live in this neighborhood, and I don’t think we’re that way at all.”

“We’re what you call new money. We’re different. People look down on that.”

Louis squints his eyes in confusion. “You’re a doctor who went to school for, like, ten years, and Jake’s gone to school for forever, too. And my mom, too. You all work. I don’t get it.”

“Your great-grandmother--you never met her--” James looks behind him to the house. “This was her house. Your mom and I are what they call ‘trust fund babies’ because when she died, we got the house. And a ton of her money, too. And she herself was never really upper class. She just married into it. So.” James just sips his Pepsi.

Louis nods like this all makes sense, but it really doesn’t. “Why did she give the house to you two, anyway? Why didn’t she give it to her own daughter?”

“Please.” James just gives Louis a look. “Our mother was an awful woman. Anyway. Back to Jacob. We have all this money, so why not put up a little building here on the property for him to work close to home? Not that there’s even a need for him to even work. I keep trying to tell him that.”

“Isn't that a little old-fashioned?”

“I don't mean to be. It’s just like I said--he takes his work home. He feels everything his clients go through and gets upset when he can't fix their problems.”

“But he wants to work,” Louis looks to James like it’s obvious, “so he should work.”

“Exactly,” James says, nodding. “As they say: Happy mate, better fate. See? You’re learning.”

Louis chuckles, and James does, too. He’s already finished his soda, and he sets it on the little table in between the chairs they’re occupying.

James burps. “So. Your friends doin’ alright?”

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Haven’t been around in a while.”

“Oli’s at band camp and Cal’s got some girl he’s obsessed with. I prob’ly won’t see him ‘til school starts up again.”

“Young love,” James sighs. “What about that other one with the high-lookin’ eyes? What’s his name?”

“What do you mean, high-lookin’ eyes?”

“He looks like this," James clarifies, squinting. “And he has that goofy look on his face all the time.”

“Stan?”

James snaps. “Stan. Stan the man.”

“Stan’s eyes aren’t high-looking,” Louis argues.

“I don’t know,” James answers skeptically. “Dude’s got some pretty shiny eyes for a Beta. And he smells like he’s always tryin’ to cover something up.”

“Yeah, the fact that he’s a Beta,” Louis grunts. “He’s fine, though, I guess. Think he said his family was going to Atlantic City or something soon.”

“Ooh, fun place. Always gets me in trouble, though.” He motions to his wallet in his back pocket. “What about Harry?”

Louis is now inspecting his nails, and he looks up nonchalantly. “What about him?”

“You know,” James says easily, shrugging. “How’s he doin’?”

“Fine, too, I guess. He broke his leg.”

“Right. I remember.” James winces a bit. “You’ve been visiting him since he got out the hospital, right?”

Louis tries not to break eye contact first, but he has to. The look on James’ face is weird. “What are you really trying to ask here?”

James laughs. “I’m just asking how he’s doing. You’re the one who’s getting defensive. If you’ve been visiting him a lot lately, I’m just seeing what’s been goin’ on with him since I haven’t seen him in a while. When we came back from the beach, the doctors told me they were really impressed by him.”

“Oh? What’d they say?”

“That he was one of the bravest omegas to ever come into the emergency room with an injury that bad. My guys had to stitch him up on his thigh before he went to get his x-rays, and they said he didn’t cry or anything.”

Well, of course Harry was the bravest omega they’d ever seen. Louis thinks back to how happy Harry had been eating his ice cream on his bed even though he had a big cast on his leg. And then he thinks of when he started to panic. And then when he’d gone into heat. And how that had smelled. And how he was sad when his dad told him all that weird stuff that one day and how he wanted to kiss him and make him happy again. How he always just wants Harry to be happy, really.

“Earth to Louis,” James says, waving his hand in Louis’ face. “How is he? I wanna bring good news back to Orthopaedics.”

“Who even told you I’ve been visiting him lately?”

“I’m just sayin’,” James repeats out of the corner of his mouth. “I doubt you’ve been spending all this time at Mrs. Morris’ house. Her grass is about a foot tall.”

Before Louis can retaliate, Jacob opens the sliding patio door and peeks his head outside. “Hey, babe,” he looks at James and says just as James is hiding something behind his back, “I just put Conor down in his room.”

“Oh, great,” James replies happily. Louis knows that they’ve been having an issue with getting him to sleep in his own crib sometimes. “We bein’ too loud?”

“No, but I’m going to be in our bedroom napping, too. Just in case you need me.”

“Alrighty.” He looks blankly at Jacob as Jacob keeps staring at him and then asks, “Need anything? Food? Foot rub?”

“No,” Jacob replies innocently. “Just letting you know where I’ll be.”

“Oh, okay. Sleep well,” James calls out as Jacob steps back inside and closes the door. He looks to Louis like he’s about to pick up where he left off in their conversation, then his eyes get a little bigger. “Oh!”

He stands up and tosses the empty and crushed-up Pepsi can at Louis before following his mate inside, rubbing his hands together.

“Eww,” is all Louis says to that.

 

* * *

 

Not too much longer after that, Louis starts sneaking into Harry’s room at nighttime pretty regularly. He’s gotten pretty brazen about it, to be honest. It takes some time to learn which backyards have dogs and automatic lights and which ones are safe, but he figures it out easily enough. He’s rewarded when Harry finally just keeps his window open. After two more nights, Louis even catches him peeping outside before he even notices Louis climbing the fence from the street behind the house.

He and Harry really never do anything extraordinary on the nights he comes over, but just hanging out together is fun. Like the old days. Harry’s favorite thing to do with Louis is to sit on the side of the bed like it’s a giant couch and turn the desk and pull it up as close to them as it'll go, playing games on the computer and chatting to people. Sometimes Louis logs in as himself and Harry just watches the conversations he has with his friends, and sometimes Harry logs in under his own username and Louis does the same. Mostly Harry just chats with Niall, and during those times, Louis lays back in bed looking at his cell phone.

On other nights, Harry talks Louis into visiting quiz-websites. They drink Dr. Pepper and watch each other take the quizzes one-at-a-time with titles like “Who’s Your Power Couple?” and “What Vegetable Are You?” and “Who Were You In A Past Life?” until Louis can barely hold in his laughter when Harry discovers that he’s an aging eggplant and smacks the computer monitor in anger.

When Harry gets his cast off in mid-August, he becomes restless during the day when he’s all alone and whiny during the night when he’s with Louis.

“Let’s go outside, Lou,” Harry begs one night.

Louis shakes his head firmly. “No way.”

“Why not?” Harry mopes. “Mom and Dad still won’t even let me leave the house all day unless it’s to sit on the back patio. I’m all pale. I look like a ghost.”

“And going outside during the night will help that how?” Louis chuckles.

“Louiiiiiis.”

“That’s a long way to go down a ladder,” Louis says while shaking his head, “and you just got a cast off your leg, Haz.”

“I can do it,” Harry maintains. Then he grips Louis’ arm. “Or we could just walk down the stairs.”

“No.”

“Or I could walk down the stairs and you can still take the ladder?” Harry suggests. “I could meet you in the backyard.”

“No, Harry,” Louis hisses. “What if you fall?”

“You sound like my mother! I’m not gonna fall.”

“No.”

Harry won’t stop pestering Louis, and after about an hour, he finally agrees. He is a complete idiot, but he agrees anyway. There’s no way he’s letting Harry go down the ladder, though, so he leads the way through the house. As he quietly pads down the hall and turns directly in front of Harry’s parents’ bedroom door before going down the stairs, his brain chants at him: you’re an idiot this is stupid this is stupid this is awful you’re an idiot Harry’s gonna hurt himself you’re an idiot.

They’re quiet as they can be, and when they make it outside, Louis has to cover Harry’s mouth because he won’t stop giggling.

In the backyard, they don’t even do anything, but it’s worth the trouble to Louis to see the happiness on Harry’s face as they sit together behind the shed and just talk. They stay up to watch the sun rise, and when they realize what that means, they’re both freaked out until Harry goes back inside and realizes his dad’s already left for work. Harry’s mother just stares at him from the dining room table, shaking her head harmlessly and drinking her coffee as Harry waves at Louis from the back door.

“School’s starting in a few weeks,” Harry says on the second night he and Louis go outside to sit on the grass behind the shed.

“Yep,” Louis says, popping his lips as he does so. Crickets are loud in the distance, and it’s cool enough to have a sweatshirt on but warm enough not to shiver. Louis’s wearing the same black hoodie of Harry’s that he’d worn last time he was cold around him, and Harry’s wearing a big, purple sweater thing. Louis doesn’t want to be reminded of school.

“You need to make it out to some football games this season,” Louis offers.

“I’ll try.”

“You better.”

Harry stares up at the moon and stars. “What position are you playing?”

“I’m a running-back, but maybe they’ll have me play wide receiver. I dunno yet. I’m training for both.”

“Ooohh,” Harry comments, then he starts laughing. “I never get why it’s called that. Where do you even run back to?” He can barely get his question out without laughing through the whole thing.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Louis drawls. “James has been doing drills with me lately, though, so maybe I’ll even be quarterback.”

“You?”

“What d’you mean, me?” Louis says, indignant. “I could do it.”

He stares at Harry’s expressionless face, and he knows Harry’s trying not to laugh. “I mean, I’m no Aaron Rodgers,” Louis teases.

“I was just joking,” Harry says quietly. He can tell he maybe hurt Louis’ feelings.

If he did, Louis doesn’t show it. He gets closer to Harry. “You so have a crush on Aaron Rodgers.”

“Do not,” Harry argues.

Louis pokes Harry’s side. “Do, too.”

Harry giggles and squirms away from Louis, and then there’s suddenly a light shining down at both of them from out of nowhere. They both gasp as they look up. Louis’ gasp turns immediately into a growl, and Harry starts to shake while squinting his eyes at the beam of light blinding him. Oh, no. Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no.

“Go inside,” Des looks at Harry and sharply orders. “Now.”

Harry has his mouth dropped open, and he looks to Louis as he stalls. From the little bit of Louis’ face he can see gleaming from the beam of the flashlight, he can’t figure out what Louis’s thinking except that it’s something not happy. He’s expecting Louis to say something, but he doesn’t. He just stands up and holds out his hand for Harry to grab onto, and when Harry does, he pulls himself up with difficulty and stares at his bare feet.

“Now,” Harry’s father repeats.

“Yes, sir,” he mutters.

Harry just goes. He looks around his shoulder and meets Louis’ eyes one last time as he limps his way to the patio and through the back door. It hurts walking up the stairs like it always does, and when he’s back in his bedroom he shuffles to his window as fast as he can and peeks out. He can’t see anything, and he can’t tell if his dad and Louis are still behind the shed or not. He tries to be still to hear if they’re downstairs now, but he can’t hear anything. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

He does know, however, that this is bad. This is awful. This is one of the most terrible things that could’ve happened. He feels his father’s anger and disapproval all throughout his blood, and his own disappointment at himself rises up and doesn’t go away. He throws himself head-first onto his mattress and can’t stop the sobs that wrack his body and the tears that immediately cover his pillow. He knows what getting caught means, and it’s going to be bad.

He never gets to find out what his father even said to Louis because he's not allowed to have contact with Louis anymore at all after that. His dad takes the computer out of Harry’s bedroom and puts it in his own the next morning, and even though he’s always complaining about money because they have to fix things around the house and buy things for school all the time, somehow he comes up with the money to install a home-security system the next week.

Gemma’s pissed. Harry’s just depressed. His father shakes his head at him now whenever he enters a room with him.


	7. night is coming down on you

On the Friday before high school starts, Louis and Calvin walk into their favorite isolated spot in the woods outside of their neighborhood. Calvin’s mother smokes long, slim cigarettes that look stupid, but they’re all Cal has access to, so he steals them from the packs she keeps in her pocketbook (little by little throughout the week so she doesn't get suspicious), and when he and Louis reach the top of the hill, they light up.

Inhaling smoke from his first cigarette of the entire summer, Louis feels the tingle of nicotine run through his bloodstream and wants to punch something. School starts in four days, and fuck it. Fuck the world. Fuck everything. He's feeling rebellious and angry, angry enough to scream at the world to fuck itself, two middle fingers held up to the sky with his cigarette between his lips like out of a movie or something.

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he quickly paces back and forth with a cigarette between his fingers and looks down at all the houses he can make out. He can’t see his own, but he can sort of tell where Calvin’s is if he narrows his eyes. He doesn't want to think about the neighborhood. He doesn’t want to go back. He wants to stay up here forever.

He’s so fucking wound-up it’s ridiculous. He tries not to let it show.

When Cal asks what he wants to do that night, Louis shrugs and brings the cigarette up to his mouth again.

“You cool if I call Steph? She’s with this girl Hannah today. She could bring her over.”

Louis shrugs again. “Do what you want.”

“I'll do that. She’s pretty hot. Hannah. I think you’ll like her.”

Louis just grunts. Ever since he stupidly told Calvin about what Harry’s dad said a few weeks ago, he won’t stop trying to press him off on other omegas. Calvin knows it irritates Louis. He does it anyway.

“I’m tellin’ ya...You’ll like her…”

When Louis and Cal skateboard back to Cal’s place, Stephanie and the other omega Hannah come over and fill Cal’s bedroom with the smell of flowers as they stand together at the doorway looking around. Almost immediately, Calvin walks Stephanie to his bed, and they sit together while Hannah walks right up to the chair Louis’s lounging in and sits down next to him on the carpet.

“So, you're Calvin’s friend?” she asks, tucking a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

Louis is in a bad mood, but he's never been one to be rude to anybody for no reason. He wants to look around in wonder and say, “No, I have no clue who he is or where I even am,” but he fixes the backwards-facing hat that’s sitting unevenly on his head, smiles politely, then says, “Yeah, yeah, me and Cal’ve been friends since we were six.”

She says nothing. Being forced to have a conversation with someone is the worst. Louis tries to think of something to ask her. “So…uh, I've never seen you around. You didn’t go to Eastern, did you?”

She smiles. She's actually got a very pretty smile. “No, Western. But I’ll be going to Northside next week.”

That’s Louis’ school. “Cool.”

Louis thinks about just how many other people from all the different middle schools are going to be coming together to attend this Northside. Just like with all the elementary schools feeding into a small amount of middle schools, there are four different middle schools in the district that all feed into the same high school. That’s a lot of people. Louis had Orientation a few days ago. The building’s huge.

After sitting in silence for far too long, Louis and Hannah both look over to the middle of the room and see Calvin and Stephanie already making out on the bed. Hannah rolls her eyes but still chuckles. Louis shakes his head and laughs quietly, too. “He's pretty rude, isn't he?”

Hannah looks curiously at Louis. “Why’s it rude? They haven't seen each other in a while. I think it's romantic.”

Louis coughs into his hand. He was just joking to start with, but her response is too much. “Oh. Well. That's Calvin. Very romantic guy.”

“I wish all Alphas were like him. He gave her roses on her birthday last month. And baked her a cake.”

“No, he di--” he starts, then clears his throat. Calvin had asked Lottie to bake that cake, actually, but apparently never told Stephanie that. “Yeah, he’s...great, isn’t he?”

Louis doesn't say anything else and halfway wishes the girls would leave already so he and Calvin can just hang out alone. He knows what he has to do for his friend, though. He stands up. “You wanna go outside?”

“Um. Sure.”

Louis just stares at her and then motions to the bed with his hand. “Unless you want to stay?”

“No,” she laughs, “that’s okay.”

Louis walks downstairs and outside through the front door. He won’t take his skateboard, and he won’t take the girl to his and Calvin’s special spot they just left, but he knows another walk they could go on. He starts leading the way down the driveway until he’s on the sidewalk.

“So...what are you into?” he asks once they’ve taken a few turns and are just walking by houses. A park. Scenic things.

Before she answers, she does some complicated thing to her hair with a piece of elastic tied to her wrist before turning to Louis. Now her hair’s all up. “What do you mean?”

Louis tries not to roll his eyes. “Like--I don’t know,” he says, shrugging. “What do you like to do? Do you play sports or...I dunno, cheerlead or anything? What are your fa--”

“Oh no,” she declines immediately, shaking her head. “I'm not really like most omegas.”

Louis thinks she smells normal. “What does that mean?”

“Well, I'm smarter than a lot of omegas who just care about their looks and finding a mate and stuff. Cheerleaders care a lot about that, actually.”

Louis comments, “My little sister’s a cheerleader.”

“--And I don't have a problem speaking my mind. I guess a lot of people don't like that, but it's who I am.”

“Yeah.” Louis doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t either. Apparently she has a thing against cheerleaders. He was sort of hoping she was a cheerleader, actually, because then that would give him an excuse to talk about how he’s going to be on the Junior Varsity football team this year and might have a chance at going Varsity even as a freshman, but oh, well. “Well. That’s cool.”

Louis has one more cigarette in the pocket of the jean jacket he’s wearing despite it being early September and still pretty warm, and he takes it out to light up. As he walks, he smokes silently for a long time because he doesn't know how to continue the conversation. Smoking’s good for that, actually. It makes him look like he’s doing something cool when he’s really not. And if this omega Hannah doesn’t like it, she doesn’t say anything about it, which is fine with Louis. Even if she did, he wouldn’t care. He wants her to say something. He wants her to disapprove. It’ll give him a reason to snap which is honestly what he feels like doing.

Louis does succeed in making some more stupid small-talk--”Got any Labor Day plans?”-- before he decides to head for his old elementary school tucked away a few more blocks away. He sees his own house off in the distance, but he doesn’t say anything to the girl about it.

Once at the school playground, Hannah finds the swing set and takes a seat. Keeping a swing in between them, Louis sits down, too, and finishes his cigarette. Hannah swings while Louis sulks.

“What’s that on your neck?” she asks after a while.

Louis unconsciously lifts his fingers up to his scar. Unlike his normal scars that just blend in with the rest of his skin, he can actually feel where this one is by the heat of it. Plus he’s had it so long and it itches enough that he's memorized its spot.

“A scar.”

“What happened?”

Louis drops his hand. He doesn’t like to think about that day. He thinks it was probably the most scared he’s ever felt. “A lot.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Hannah doesn’t ask because right at that moment Calvin and his girlfriend are seen approaching from the distance.

“How’d you know we were here?” Hannah calls out.

Calvin just points to his nose as he gets closer.

“Oh, right. Spidey-senses.” Hannah looks to Louis as she completely halts the movement of the swing with her feet. “I really like Spiderman. Who’s your favorite?”

“Anything D.C.,” he tells her, shrugging.

She looks confused. “Like, D.C. the city?”

“Huh?”

“Like...Washington, D.C.?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nevermind,” he mutters.

As Calvin walks to Louis’ side, he looks stupidly smug. Stephanie immediately sits next to Hannah, and they swing back and forth while Calvin just nudges Louis with his elbow and grins. Louis’ll have to hear about what he and Stephanie just did when they’re alone again.

It’s not until the freaking sun sets that the girls leave, and then Cal and Louis walk back to his house. As he predicted, during the entire trip back Louis has to listen to Calvin gush about the experience of unzipping Stephanie’s shorts and sticking his hand down the front of them. When they’re back in Cal’s stinky-sweet bedroom, they’re in the middle of silently playing Halo 2 when Calvin speaks over the noise of the game.

“So...”

Louis repeats it. “So.”

Louis’s expecting Cal to talk more about the crude things he’s just done with Steph, so he’s surprised when, instead, he says, “Did you two hit it off or what?”

“What?”

“Hannah. You got her number, right?”

Louis shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Well, why the hell not?”

“Because I didn’t ask for it, dumbass.”

Calvin shakes his head and literally pauses the game. “Come on, man.”

“What?”

“When are you gonna get your head out of Harry's ass and just do something for yourself for once?” He immediately widens his eyes, looking like he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “Harry's great, though. Great omega. But Hannah’s into you, dude. Steph already told me she’s been looking at all your pictures on Myspace. What's it gonna hurt if you hook up with her? She's not ugly or clingy or anything. Seems easy to me.”

Louis scratches his face. “I’ll think about it.”

He won’t.

Calvin doesn’t resume the game. “He’s always hanging out with that blonde Alpha, anyway, you said, and then his dad’s a dick--”

Louis growls. “I said I’ll think about it.”

“No, you won’t,” Calvin responds in frustration. “You say you’ll think about it, but you won’t do shit.”

“You don’t know what I will or won’t do.”

‘Yes, I do.”

“Yeah?” Louis challenges.

Calvin’s face is stony. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Louis retorts stupidly, “you don’t.”

“You’re not gonna call her, man!”

“I told you I’d think about it! Next time I freakin’ see her, maybe I’ll kiss her like you do with Stephanie! All summer long while I ignore my friends! Is that what you wanna hear? That I’ll make out with an omega who’s not Harry? Not like it’s any of your business, but I freakin’ will!”

“Yeah, right,” Calvin teases, not affected by Louis’ anger. They’ve known each other too long. “Says the Alpha who sits out during every game of Spin-the-Bottle I’ve ever played at a party because he ‘doesn’t want to end up kissing someone with braces.’ Even when there’s no one with braces even there.”

“With some people, it’s hard to tell! Stan cut his fucking mouth doing that once--” Louis starts to argue before clenching his fists. "What the hell do you even care who I’m into, man? What the fuck difference does it make?”

“I don’t care,” Calvin grunts. “Just sucks having you be so fucking grumpy all the time because of some little omega who prob’ly doesn’t even have pubes yet, and we’re gonna be high-schoolers now, man--”

“Don’t talk about Harry that way!” Louis throws his controller at the game console before standing up. “What the fuck is your deal? Are you trying to start school next week with a black eye or something?”

“If it means getting my best friend back, then yeah, sure,” Cal responds, gritting his teeth. “Hit me.”

Louis and Calvin have a staring contest for almost one full minute before Louis shakes his head. “I’m leaving.”

Calvin sighs. “He’s not gonna ever want you, anyway, if you don’t even know what to do, Lou.”

“I’m leaving,” Louis repeats.

“Steph won’t be my mate, I already know it,” Cal continues. “It’s like practice.”

Louis silently walks to Calvin’s chair and picks up his skateboard. He walks to the door.

“Fine. See you in school Tuesday. Just think about it!”

Louis skateboards home in a rush and scarfs down the food that Austin’s left for him in the microwave so quickly he gets weird looks from his mother, then he goes upstairs without saying anything to anyone and slams his door. He can smell that his uncle’s been in his room, and for some reason, it pisses him off more.

He knows he’s about to start his rut--probably as early as tomorrow--just by the feeling in his blood, by the temperature of his skin. He can’t settle, can’t clear his mind, and can’t wait to just jerk himself off and go to sleep since he knows once he actually does go into rut he won’t be getting any rest at all.

He’s probably gonna end up missing the cookout his mom’s having on Monday. He might even miss the first day of school. He doesn’t care.

Even though he can feel his blood run hot, somewhere deep, deep inside his brain knows that Calvin’s just trying to help. And he’s right. In a way. Louis doesn’t have any experience with anybody. There’s no reason for Harry to ever be interested in Louis--now or in the future--if he doesn’t know the first thing about omegas and what they...like and stuff. He can already imagine being rejected a second time because he doesn’t have any clue how to please an omega. He can’t have that happen.

Louis knows what he eventually has to do with Hannah. And it makes him cringe.

For now, though, he’s not gonna think about her or her stupid opinions. He’s gonna do something else. He’s gonna do what he’s been ignoring for a very, very long time.

Even as he pushes off all his clothes and starts to move off the bed, he’s embarrassed, but he knows he’s entirely alone and no one will ever know about this, so he walks to the door.

There are two separate locks on the inside of the door, and to be sure he’s not going to get caught looking at what he’s about to look at, he turns both of them to the right. He doesn’t want to take any chances.

In addition to the two locks on the inside of his door, James had installed dead-bolt locks on the outside of his bedroom door late last year. He and the other adults were getting concerned because apparently on two separate occasions while in rut, Louis’d come downstairs naked and tried to run out the front door. Louis knows that once his rut actually begins, they’ll be locking the door from the outside, and he’s fine with it. He’d agreed it was for the best to have that happen.

For now, though, this is good enough. He pulls at his door. It doesn’t open.

Louis turns around and stares at the floor by his bed. His feet are heavy as he walks ahead, and, for the first time in years, purposefully crouches to look under it. He swipes trash and dirty clothes to the side before eventually finding what he’s looking for.

It feels like he’s being watched, so he briefly looks behind his shoulder. He doesn’t want to reach out, but he really does want to reach out, so he does. Feeling the cover of what must be the only book under his bed, he pulls it forward until it’s in his hands, then he sits upright.

_Omegas and You: What You Didn’t Know You Didn’t Know._

His heart races as he hops back onto his bed and gets under his blanket. This is ridiculous. Then, on second thought, he kicks the blanket off with his feet. He has no clue what this book has in it, but it’ll probably have something in it that’ll make him hotter because he’s pathetic.

He feels stupid as he breathes in and out excitedly just looking at the cover of the book, staring too long at the omega male with the pretty face, and, like stuff’s about to fly out and hit his face or something, he closes his eyes and takes in a huge amount of air before finally opening it.

He’s expecting to read some of the chapter titles of this book and then skim to the one he really wants to go to, but he’s confused because some of the words are covered. Smushed up in the middle of the first page of the book--just laying there--is some dark, square package with the word ALPHA stamped across it about twenty different times, and Louis’ eyes squint in confusion and then bulge once he realizes what he’s seeing.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Just what in the hell did his mother even think he did in his spare time? As if giving him a book about omega... _biology_...weren’t enough, she had to go and stick a freaking condom in the middle of it. An actual condom. Like he’s out there humping the neighborhood and needs to protect himself.

Louis is stuck in a weird state of being both grumpy and curious. While not a complete idiot, he’s still never actually seen a condom outside of the package. He picks up the lightweight wrapper and looks at it from both sides. He...he knows what it is, yeah--the classes in school talk about them sometimes---or, well, all the time and Louis just ignores it--and they’re even available in the nurse’s office to those who ask for them. He’s still just sort of pissed that his mom thought she needed to put one in this stupid book.

He won’t use it.

He just wants to see.

Squirming back against his pillows, Louis tears open the plastic a little too quickly, and immediately, his fingers get covered in a slick, watery substance that he makes a face at before wiping off on his sheets.

There’s even more liquid inside, and as Louis sticks his fingers in there to pull the condom out, instead of getting grossed out, he actually gets excited. This time he rubs his fingertips together, and on instinct, brings them up to his nose. The liquid doesn’t smell like anything--nothing good, at least--but he admits that it feels warm and nice and slick on his fingertips--

Holy shit. This is like...slick. This must be what slick feels like.

Louis bets the real stuff is a lot different, though. He tries not to think about Harry, but he can’t help it. He bets--he bets Harry’s slick smells way better than this. He bets it smells really, really good. When they were kissing, so so so freakin’ long ago now, Louis had gotten to smell Harry’s hair and his skin close up, and wishes he could smell more, and he...he really shouldn’t be thinking about this. But he does. He looks at the little glistening on his fingers and imagines it got there in a different way. Now his breathing is all fast already.

He’s just reaching into the package again to pull out the condom when he jerks his hand back.

Wait. He’s probably already smelled Harry’s slick before. That’s probably what he was smelling when Harry went into heat in front of him. He has smelled it before.

He throws his head back against his pillow and tosses the book to the floor again. Fuck it. He can’t concentrate on anything now but constantly licking his lips because his mouth is now all full of spit and he can’t control it.

Looking down at his lap, Louis realizes he’s suddenly tenting his boxers so extremely that it hurts. And it’s only growing--like, visibly twitching inside. Just thinking about Harry’s slick has gone and made him feel out so out of control it’s like his rut’s already began.

How the hell is he ever gonna do this?

Since the door is closed and locked, Louis breathes out slowly, closes his eyes, and sticks his wet hand down into his underwear. Sometimes he gets wet on his own, but it’s nothing like this. He reaches under another pillow to pull out a familiar black hoodie, covers his nose with it, and tries to be as quiet as possible. Even biting his lip, that’s always hard to do.

He does this a lot. He’s gotten good at making this feeling go away, but on this night, it’s the first time he does it right before a rut and feels really, really bad afterwards.

 **Seventh Grade/Ninth Grade**  
**Twelve/Fourteen**

For Harry, seventh grade begins worse than sixth grade ended.  
Somehow, a rumor started over the summer that he and Zayn had been dating and had a really bad break-up, explaining why they stopped talking so much in sixth grade. Harry thinks it’s ridiculous. Ever since the very first day of school, he’s had to answer questions about it to people he’s never even met before.

“Never knew you swung that way,” one person says on the bus ride home on the very first day of school.

Someone else in his Civics class, without any reason at all, just stares at Harry during the second day of school and eventually tells him, “My mom says liking other omegas is just a phase. And it’s gross. You’ll get over him.”

On the third day of school in the omega locker room, a girl hands Harry a pamphlet to her church while he’s right in the middle of changing into his gym clothes. He looks at it in confusion and tells him that he already has a church he goes to, but thanks, and he’s just about to talk about how he’s in the choir there, but he’s worried that he won’t make it into the choir here at school when the girl just gives him a disgusted look and snatches the piece of paper out of Harry’s hands.

He just doesn’t get it.

Harry is completely fine with omegas who like other omegas. He’s just not one of those people himself. And even if he did happen to fall for an omega, it wouldn’t be Zayn. He knows too much weird stuff about Zayn to ever like him like that. Like how he farts in his sleep and he doesn’t like broccoli and how he secretly tweezes his eyebrows when he’s staring at his reflection for half-an-hour straight.

Rumors get made up so easily. It’s weird (and, at the same time, annoying) for Harry to be the person that everyone is talking about.

During the second week of school, Harry finally auditions for choir. The teacher had made everyone who signed up for the class try out one-by-one, right in front of everyone else, and for over a week Harry has to stand up on a set of bleachers for fifty minutes straight each day, waiting in anxiety while the Alphas and Betas try out first.

When the omegas get to go, it’s in no order at all, and it stresses Harry out because he can’t figure out when his turn will be. Mrs. Upton doesn’t call him up to audition until the very end of the class on Wednesday morning, and when he sings, he sounds like a giant frog because he’s nervous with so many people watching. His voice has been changing and getting sort of croakier lately, but he’s never sounded like an actual frog before. When he’s done singing, he walks back up to his spot on the bleachers and stands in his own embarrassment.

In the last few minutes of class, Zayn gets called up. Harry watches and tries not to be jealous when Zayn nails his song even though Harry can tell he’s nervous. Someone he doesn’t know nudges his arm with their elbow when Zayn’s up there singing, and Harry sighs. He already knows what’s coming.

Harry dazes out while Zayn’s singing, thinking of their past and whatever their present has become. Zayn hasn’t really spoken to him since he broke his leg. When Zayn’s done auditioning, people actually clap for him, and he looks to the ground and smiles. As he walks back to the bleachers, Harry hears people whisper things to him like, “You nailed it” and “Way to go” and “Really, really beautiful voice.”

“I don’t think I’ll even be accepted to join after that performance,” Harry jokes to the guy beside him. Even though that is what he really thinks, saying it out loud is sort of half-hearted. He’s secretly hoping for a compliment, like maybe the guy will say something like, “Aw, you weren’t so bad,” or something, so Harry’s really surprised when, instead, the guy sniggers and says, “I guess, though, with the way you’re dressed, maybe you could take the time you’d be in choir to help the janitors scrub the toilets instead.”

Harry hears a large amount of people laughing, and he’s almost positive Zayn is one of them. He stays quiet after that. Getting new clothes at the beginning of each school year is something that Harry doesn’t really know much about.

When try-outs are finally over, Harry approaches Zayn and feels weird about it, like he’s interrupting Zayn doing something important. He is in the middle of talking to people, though, but still. Harry just clears his throat until Zayn notices him.

“Hey...What’s your next class?” he asks, smiling awkwardly.

Zayn runs a hand through his hair. It’s gotten longer. “Um. I don’t really know,” he says, shrugging.

“You don’t know what your next class is?”

Zayn shakes his head.

“Oh,” Harry says, upset. Harry’s already memorized his schedule. He was going to see if they could walk down the same hallway together once choir was over. “Well--maybe at lunch, do you want to--”

The bell rings over what Harry’s about to ask.

“I really can’t, Harry, sorry,” Zayn interrupts before joining the guys waiting for him by the door.

As Zayn walks out into the hallway, Harry sighs and mutters, “Since you’re rich now and think you’re so much better than everyone else.”

 

* * *

 

  
“That omega by the column,” Oli whispers. “She keeps looking at you.”

Staring at his peas and carrots without eating them, Louis doesn’t look up. “Who?”

Calvin follows his cousin’s focus. “Aw man, that’s Hannah, dude,” he says too loudly, reaching out and patting Louis’ arm. “Louis--she’s looking at you, man.”

“Good for her.”

“She’s into you!”

Louis stonily meets Cal’s eyes. “Good for her.”

“Talk to her,” Calvin suggests.

“You talk to her. She’s your omega’s best friend.”

“Why don’t you ask her to Homecoming?” Stan pipes up.

“‘Cause I’m not going to Homecoming.”

“But you’re on the football team,” Stan reminds him right before sticking a slice of pizza in his mouth. “You gotta go.”

Louis sighs. He was just going to go home after the game that he’ll just sit on the bench during anyway, but he supposes he can’t keep being a little bitch his whole life. It’s no way to live. It’ll show the Alphas on the football team that he doesn’t care about their taunts, at least. On a weekly basis he has to listen to them jeer that he’s the smallest Alpha they’ve ever seen. And that he has the biggest ass and smallest arms for an Alpha they’ve ever seen. And that he looks like something that one of them shit out that morning before school.

“Fine. I’ll take her to freakin’ Homecoming,” Louis gives in. He looks at Calvin pointedly before adding, “But I’m not doing some big, stupid thing like you did with Stephanie to ask her.”

“If you wanted to get some, you would,” Calvin sing-songs.

Louis slowly and vaguely looks away from the table so it looks like it’s an accident when he spots Hannah. When she smiles at him, he makes himself smile back.

 

* * *

 

 

Being at home these days is like walking directly into a small and crowded boxing ring for Harry. Gemma stays constantly angry, and even though he’s noticed a little bit of change in his mom, like she’s more independent lately or something, it’s like she’s not as happy as she used to be. His dad is still the same as he’s always been.

Harry’s eating dinner on an unusually warm November evening, and what’s also unusual is the fact that his dad and sister are sitting at the table, too. While his mom uses a knife to cut the corn off the sides of her corn-on-the-cob, she asks Harry, “How was the field trip today?”

He answers his mom with a mouth full of food. “Good.”

“Where’d you go?” his dad asks.

“The Smithsonian,” Harry mumbles. His dad was the one who signed the paper for him to go. “For...the third time, I think.”

His mom smiles at him. “Learn anything new?”

“Not really,” he says honestly. “I wish they’d take us to the History Museum, but we always go to the ones with the planes. But they let us go walk up and down the streets for a bit with a chaperone, so that was cool.”

“Sounds dangerous and irresponsible to me,” his dad pipes in. “Any of you could’ve gotten lost or kidnapped or--”

“He was by the Smithsonian, Dad,” Gemma interrupts. “It’s not like he was in the middle of the ghetto at midnight.”

“Did you get to stop in any good shops?” Anne quickly asks Harry. “All the Christmas stuff out is always so pretty this time of year.”

“I know,” Harry excitedly agrees. “But not really. We went in one, but Will was bored, so we left.”

“So you didn’t buy me anything?” Gemma pouts.

He sticks out his tongue. “Nope.”

“You’ve got cash from your allowance, you know,” his dad comments. “You could’ve bought something. Even for yourself.”

“Umm, well, I got a new bracelet from a street vendor,” Harry admits, holding up his arm. He wears quite a few bracelets on his arm these days. His dad doesn’t look excited about it, but his mom says it looks nice.

“What he means,” Gemma corrects, “is that a hobo got all up in his face with a sad story and he felt too bad to not buy at least one piece of stolen jewelry from the guy.”

Anne shakes her head, but Harry can tell it’s not in genuine disapproval. “That’s horrible, Gemma.”

“It’s probably what happened, though, isn’t it, Harry?”

Harry doesn’t answer. His dad already smells angry, and it’s making Harry start to panic internally. He always tries so hard to keep things happy, and it never seems to work.

Des points his fork at Gemma. There’s a piece of chicken at the end of it. “You’re a beautiful Alpha, young lady, but that mouth of yours makes you so much less attractive.”

Harry scoots his chair back when Gemma’s eyes flash red and stay that way. He wants to throw up.

“Who even cares what you think,” Gemma growls. “As if me being pretty or not even matters in the first place.”

Like always these days, Gemma gets sent to her room. Harry’s surprised she’d even decided to sit down at the dinner table to begin with, but he thinks it has something to do with him, like she’s protecting him in her own way or something. His sister really has been trying to make him feel better, and he’s endlessly grateful. It’s still uncomfortable when she and his father argue, though. Which is always.

Harry gets up from the table and takes Gemma’s plate to the sink. It gives him distance from his dad, but the space doesn’t help much because as he looks down into the sink, drops of blood begin dripping from his nose onto the dirty dishes. He has to lay on the couch with a paper towel held to his nose for the next half hour.

In the next few months, his nosebleeds happen more frequently and a bit more violently, too. He actually has so many between December and January that the nurse at school refers him to be seen by a physician.

The doctor doesn’t give him any answers. He just suggests that Harry use a humidifier in his bedroom at night. It helps a little. He still runs out of class often enough that his classmates think he’s in heat all the time, so that’s embarrassing.

 

* * *

 

  
Harry’s dad still keeps the computer in his bedroom these days, and he monitors every website Harry visits. Harry can’t even get online at home anymore unless he wants to feel paranoid for nothing. Then the four computers in the school library can only be used to look up books or take Accelerated Reading tests, so the only way Harry can really get online anymore is if he goes to one of the county libraries.

So that’s what he does on Friday afternoon with his new friends from choir, Haydn and Will. They have to sign up for their turn to use the computer lab, and when the computers are available, their backpacks almost fall off their shoulders as they run to them. The first thing Harry does, of course, is open a web browser and type in www.myspace.com.

“You don’t have to even put the w’s there--did you know?” Haydn asks.

Harry doesn’t know, so he slowly moves the mouse to click on the hyperlink and presses the backspace button four times to get rid of them. When he’s done, he realizes he’s spelled the website wrong, so then he has to delete everything. When he goes to do it, though, he accidentally hits ‘enter’ and goes to a random website that sells cars.

“Oh, oops!”

Boxes start appearing inside the computer monitor flashing at him. He pushes his chair back. “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

Will can’t stop laughing, and people all around them give them looks. Haydn just reaches over and types the website for Harry.

“Thanks.”

After he puts in his email address and password, Harry looks to see if he has anything new going on. Nope. No new friend requests. No new messages. He’s got his ten favorite people right in the middle of his page, though, and his favorite part of this website is seeing who’s online and who’s updated stuff.

Harry purposefully avoids clicking on Louis’ picture and chooses to click on Zayn’s instead. Zayn’s changed his picture since the last time Harry visited this site. It’s a picture of him looking up, and he looks very pretty. Like a model. Harry sighs. He reads comments down Zayn’s page, and he doesn’t even recognize who these people are, but they seem to have a lot of inside jokes together. About five minutes in, Harry caves and goes back to his homepage to click on Louis.

There’s not much on Louis’ page that’s new from the last time Harry went on there. His profile picture is still the same. It’s a photo he took in front of a mirror at his house without his shirt on. Harry likes it. He’d like it better if a big flash wasn’t in the middle of the photograph.

He looks through the same pictures of Louis that he always does. Louis hasn’t put up anything new. He wishes that he did so Harry could see what he looks like now. When he’s disappointed, he just decides to just read down Louis’ comments. There’s a lot new there.

Harry sees this same person posting things again and again, things with little hearts and things that don’t make sense. Harry’s confused. Whoever it is, her profile picture is of her and Louis. He clicks on it.

When he’s on her page, he clicks a lot more. Leaning in closer to the computer, his mouth drops as he tries to find out who this is. Her name isn’t anywhere. He looks around the page, but he can’t find out her name. While she had tons of comments on Louis’ page, Harry doesn’t see anything Louis’s posted on hers.

So Harry clicks on her photos. He clicks nonstop, going through all of them. They’re all of her and Louis. Louis with his arm around her, her with her arm around Louis, her sitting in Louis’ lap, picture after picture. Over and over and over again.

When Harry thinks he’ll be sick if he looks at any more, he exits out of the entire website and walks completely out of the computer lab and to the pay phone to ask his mom to pick him up.

He doesn’t remember ever feeling this way in his entire life. It’s almost like a dull, empty feeling, except it’s not. He feels something inside, but he just can’t put a name to what it is. It’s like the feeling of watching Zayn and his family pack up their belongings into the back of a U-Haul truck and drive away, like the time he studied for fourteen nights in a row and got a B, the feeling at the end of every school year when he gets “exceeds expectations” on all of his standardized tests but never gets chosen to skip a grade.

It’s like Louis’s standing beside him and is pouring ice cold water over his heart.

The next afternoon, Harry sleeps in past noon because it’s Saturday. He just can’t bring himself to even get out of bed, really, and he stares at his ceiling and listens to CDs to keep his thoughts from driving him completely insane. By the late afternoon, his sister forcefully barges into his room without knocking.

She points her index finger at Harry. “Look, I love you and all, Harry, but if you play this fucking My Chemical Romance song one more time, I'll rip your stereo out of the wall and throw it out the front door into the middle of the street. Think of the lives you'll spare by simply improving your music taste.”

“I do have good taste,” Harry argues with an offended look on his face. “And that’s way, way harsh, Gem--”

“No, Harry. No, you really don’t have good taste. Angry men screaming over guitars and drums is not good taste!”

Harry crosses his arms and rolls over, turning his back to his sister. “It matches my mood.”

“Well, put some headphones on!”

“They broke!” Harry yells hysterically. His voice hurts his own ears.

Gemma sighs, and her face softens. She walks to the bed. “Look. Want me to sneak you out tonight? Some of my friends can drive. We can just take you over there.”

Harry shakes his head so fast it hurts. “He doesn’t want me there.”

“Bulls--crap,” she says. “He does, too.”

Harry pulls the covers up over his face. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does.” Gemma pulls the covers back down. “Talk to me.”

“No,” he mopes.

“What’s wrong?”

Harry continues to ignore her, rolling over onto his stomach now.

Later on, after spending the entire day in bed without even eating, his mom knocks on his door. Harry doesn’t even respond, and his mom still walks inside.

He feels the bed dip when she sits on it. With his eyes closed, he speaks directly into his pillow. “What?”

“Got something,” she just says.

Harry squints an eye open.

His mom holds up a few coupons to Wendy’s. “You down?”

Harry wants to be excited, but it’s hard. He slowly nods.

Outside in the car, Harry takes his regular seat in the back of the station wagon and buckles up. “Wait--what about Dad?”

“He said he’ll pick up something on the way home from the office,” his mom answers softly.

“Oh.”

Harry can’t remember a Saturday when his dad didn’t work.

The drive isn’t long, but he’s got a headache, and it’s not made any better by his mom and sister singing the whole way to Wendy’s.

“Turn it down,” Harry gripes.

“You used to love this song,” his mom says. When Harry doesn't respond, his mom looks at him from the rear-view mirror. “What is it, babe? Are you about to start?”

“Mommm,” Harry groans, slouching in his seat. “Oh, my God.”

His mom’s counting on her fingers. “You probably are. We’ll get you some food and maybe that’ll help.”

“I’m not about to start!”

Gemma laughs. “He’s just going through his version of a Bella-During-New-Moon phase, Mom.”

Anne brakes at a stop sign and looks left and right. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”

“If you keep up with pop culture at all, yeah.”

“Stop talking about me,” Harry grumbles, kicking Gemma’s seat with his good leg. She reaches around and smacks him. “Stop!”

“Try to cheer up, honey,” his mom whispers to him as they’re all walking inside the restaurant. “We have coupons for free fries and frosties, but order whatever you want. As much as you want.”

Harry’s already staring with difficulty at the menu, and he quickly whips his head back to his mom. “As much as I want? Really?”

“Yep,” she answers.

Harry hugs her.

Harry asks his mom to order three Junior Bacon Cheeseburgers, a large fry, and a milkshake for him because it makes him nervous doing it on his own. He ends up eating so much that on the way back home he sticks his head out of the window of the station wagon and ends up throwing up all over the side of the car, and his sister almost throws up from laughing so hard.

Gemma’s chortling for a good minute before she puts her hands over her mouth and nose. “Oh, my God, Mom, it stinks--it stinks so bad, oh, my God. Pull over.”

“Oh, Harry,” Anne says, stifling a disgusted smile herself, “that’s really awful.”

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes, laughing. It’s sad that throwing up is the first thing that’s made him laugh in over a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright -- so I have a bunch more already written, but just not about what happens in the next chapter or two. So the updates may be a little slower for just a bit while I write that, but hopefully the three chapters I updated pretty quickly can keep you guys going until I can churn the next ones out. :) also sorry for typos. I swear things look fine on my computer but when I reread I swear it's almost like I type things correctly and they're corrected to wrong things without my permission! At least that's my excuse. All things should be fixed now. Thanks for reading!!! Feel free to comment because I love reading them.


	8. we take it for granted that we'll be the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I say how much GoogleDocs gets on my nerves? I'll reread things a million times, and there will still be random typos after I know I've fixed things. Again, I'll reread this last draft and fix typos that magically appear when I see them, or, if you're super nice, you can tell me about it. This is what I get for writing on my phone. 
> 
> I already know the formatting is all jacked up, so that'll be fixed with time.
> 
> Okay-I didn't put this in the story tags because this is the only real instance that something like this will happen, but there's a small trigger warning for dubious consent (sort of) in here. Hopefully people realize that with an A/B/O story, this is certain territory that may happen. The story addresses it a lot.
> 
> Anyway. These chapters are hard to write, so sorry for the wait.

**Thirteen and Fifteen**

**7th/9th Grade, Spring**

 

It’s towards the end of a long and dull school year when Harry starts leaving his classes twice a day--once mid-morning and once a little after lunch--to go to the nurse’s office and use a special nasal spray that his doctor says will reduce his nosebleeds. Due to his school’s strict rules on medication, though, he can’t even keep it in his backpack, so when it’s time for his doses, he has to go through the hassle of getting a hall pass, leaving class, and walking all the way to the nurse’s office on the first floor of the school. At first he feels important being granted special privileges until one day he’s rudely reminded by one of his classmates _in front of everyone_ that it’s only because he’s gross and can’t quit bleeding on himself.

Which is kinda right, but whatever. At least this gives him time to escape class and be by himself. And these days he both hates and loves being by himself.

Lately he’s gotten in the habit of stalling on his way back to class since he knows his teacher never says anything even if he’s a little bit late. She should, though, because he’s been in her Keyboarding class since January and he still only uses his index fingers to type. As it is, though, for the past week he’s been sneaking into the bathroom no one ever uses at the very end of the second-floor hall and spending his time alone to just write in the journal he takes everywhere with him.

The book’s about halfway full now, the pages covered with little drawings and poems and random thoughts he has. He’d found it--brand new--on his back porch one dry, cold day back in February, and since Gemma said it wasn’t hers and didn’t look familiar, Harry kept it. He knows it probably fell out of one of her friends’ backpacks or something, so he secretly feels guilty about taking it for his own, but Gemma did say she didn’t recognize it, and it’s just so nice. The outside is a smooth, light brown leather, the paper is the perfect size and thickness, and there’s even a little string around it to tie it closed and carry it places. It even sort of even smells like Harry now.

On this particular day, Harry doesn’t go into the bathroom to write, though. He actually doesn’t do anything at all. He just stands in front of the mirror like a weirdo and stares at his reflection. Noticing his strange ears and even stranger hair, he’s certain he’s never looked worse in his entire life. Add to the mix a nose that randomly drips blood, and he’s a total loser.

From his gross skin, it doesn’t even look like he gets any sleep or washes his face. And he sleeps and washes his face all the time. He also brushes his hair, but that, too, chooses to do what it wants.

He doesn’t get why he has to look like this. There have been dances this year--and last year--that he’s avoided attending because he knows he wouldn’t be able to look good enough to attend them even if Gemma tried her best to flatten his curls.

There are other excuses. He doesn’t have nice-enough clothes to wear. He doesn’t know how to dance. He doesn’t like most of his classmates well enough to see them in school, let alone outside of school hours.

But really, though, it’s because he doesn’t want to go alone. His friends keep trying to talk him into going with them, just in a big group of omegas, but he’s always declined their offers ever since the first dance he’d gone to before Christmas break when he’d been awkwardly alone by a wall, watching couples slow-dance to K-Ci & JoJo. But he always says no in a nice way, of course. In a way that makes his friends go, “ _Aw, Harry, come onnn_ ,” until he laughs and changes the subject.

It’d be nice if an actual Alpha would ask him to go to a dance. It’d be nice if someone wanted to slow-dance with him.

A lot of other omegas he knows are starting to go out with Alphas. The Alphas date them, maybe are even courting them already. He sees the couples kissing behind their opened locker doors in the hallways sometimes, or, other times, in empty hallways while Harry’s strolling to the nurse and catches them skipping class.

Harry can’t see stuff like that ever happening to himself. Can’t see an Alpha willingly kissing him the way he sees other Alphas kiss omegas in school and at the mall. It’s a little pathetic that the first and only kiss he’s ever had was because he had to make up an excuse and ask for it himself.

He can still dream, though. He can dream his life is totally different.

He writes those thoughts down in his journal. He scratches a lot out, but the end-product rhymes nicely.

When it’s been more than ten minutes, Harry thinks he’s been gone from class long enough and picks up his hall pass after putting his journal in his back pocket. Before he leaves, he gives himself one last look in the mirror and sighs.

He hasn’t even taken a step before he hears the door open, and he can’t help but jump a bit, thinking he may have been gone from class for so long someone’s been sent to find him. He can’t see anyone yet, but he smells a younger omega, though, someone his age, so at least it’s not a teacher. He’s prepared to smile politely at whoever’s finally walking fully inside when he notices it’s Zayn, and he’s sniffling. Harry's first instinct is to just look to the ground and walk by him, but when he clearly sees tears in Zayn’s eyes, he pauses. And then when he _smells_ Zayn, his mouth falls open.

He walks forward and tentatively reaches out a hand to touch Zayn’s shoulder. “Oh, no--Zayn--you gotta--you gotta go home…”

A loud clambering sound makes Harry jump again, and suddenly there’s an Alpha in the bathroom. Zayn squeaks just as Harry gasps and notices who it is: one of Zayn’s Alpha friends, Nate, that Harry recognizes from MySpace of all places. He’s tall, thin, and cool-looking, with brown hair and tan skin like Zayn. Harry sees his pictures a lot. He and Zayn upload a lot of them. Mostly of themselves with other Alphas spray-painting graffiti on the sides of old cement buildings, but right now, he doesn’t look like he’s friends with Zayn at all. He looks mad, his eyes blood red. When he shoves Zayn’s back, Zayn stumbles forward, but besides the noise from Nate’s boots, he’s mostly quiet.

Harry looks between Zayn and Nate so quickly his eyes can’t focus, and then something in him tells him to just act without thinking. “Go away!” he yells as firmly as he can manage to.

The Alpha doesn’t even talk. He pushes Zayn until he’s flat against the wall then takes his free hand to wrap around Harry’s throat, forcing him to the wall, as well.

Harry’s throat burns. While gasping for air, he tries to kick Nate’s shins. “Can’t you tell--he’s in--heat?”

Harry’s answered by a firmer grip on his neck and a long, low groan that could maybe be a growl, and a normal omega would stop struggling immediately at the threat behind the sound. Harry doesn't.

“Stop!” Harry strains to get out, pulling at Nate’s fingers. Either he isn’t very strong or Harry’s muscles have miraculously grown because he succeeds in freeing himself a lot quicker than he expected. Zayn’s still blubbering, still smelling really, really strong, and this is a bad situation. The neutralizers in the halls normally keep these things from happening, but...they aren’t perfect.

“This is your friend,” Harry pleads, pulling on Nate’s shirt. “Please! Stop! Just go away!”

When Harry pulls at Zayn’s hand, Zayn can barely move. Nate just pushes Zayn against the wall again, anyway, then he drops his free hand to his jeans.

Harry looks around wildly with his hands on his cheeks. There’s nothing at all to use to protect Zayn with. There are heavy sinks and toilets and a large trashcan, but all of those things are stuck to the floor. As Nate lowers his zipper, Harry’s not really thinking of the consequences, just thinking of getting Zayn away. So when he loosens his own studded belt and brings it directly upon Nate’s head three times in a row--hard--he’s definitely not prepared for the look of pure rage that spreads across the Alpha’s face.

“Oh, no,” Harry mutters. He drops his belt and backs away slowly, soon almost cornered by the sinks. “Zayn, leave! Go! Go!”

Zayn sprints ahead of Harry to the door, and even though it hurts Harry to run fast ever since he broke his leg, he sideswipes Nate and painfully escapes as quickly as he can right behind Zayn.

They’re both out of breath when they go down a flight of stairs and turn their third corner. Harry doesn’t even really know where they are in the building, but he knows Nate can’t be far enough away yet, so when Zayn stops walking altogether, Harry freaks out. “Zayn, keep running, he’s right behind us!”

Zayn lets out a long, high moan and leans against the tiled wall.  “I can’t. I can’t... I’m gonna die if I don’t--”

“We have to,” Harry urges, hands on his cheeks again. “Zayn, I just--oh, God, I just hit an Alpha, we have to keep going, come on!”

Harry doesn’t think Zayn’s listening. Instead of moving away, Zayn sluggishly turns around to face the wall and leans his backside out. “I’m--My--My pants are soggy.”

By this point, Nate’s predictably caught up to the pair, and it’s like Harry’s heart is in his throat and his stomach is at his feet both at the same time. The Alpha puts a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and stands in front of Harry, breathing in deeply. “You’re both so fucked. Literally, Malik.” He turns to look at Harry. “And you, you little bitch. Get in my way again, I dare you.”

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever felt so much panic at once in his whole life. Not ever. And that’s saying something. When he looks down at his hands and notices his nails are growing, he gasps and hides them behind his back.

Nate’s got his zipper down still, and he looks at Harry and grins, thinking he’s gasped at seeing what’s almost visible inside. Harry winces. He thinks this guy is the most disgusting person he’s ever seen, and the only thing worse than him getting closer and closer to Zayn is that Zayn’s beginning to match his body up to Nate’s, too.

Harry pulls at Zayn’s arm, but it’s not helping anything. Zayn’s just moaning, still pressing his hips back, not caring about Harry at all. “Zayn!”

Harry doesn’t want to see anymore. He doesn’t want to see. His eyes dart anywhere but at the Alpha’s jeans, and as a tiny red box catches his eyes, he makes a split-second decision. Even though he’ll be in more trouble than he can even comprehend right now, he slashes both of his hands across the side of Nate’s face at the same time, right from his hairline to his chin, and in the next second, he sprints to the other side of the hall, pulls down on the fire alarm there, and then grabs Zayn’s arm, _pulls_ , and runs.

Even over the sound of the fire alarm ringing, Harry can hear Nate roaring out in pain and anger, and Harry’s heart won’t stop thudding and his nails won’t go back to normal.

“Oh, _no_ , now everybody’s gonna leave their classrooms,” Harry commiserates, trying to pull and drag Zayn’s dead-weight down the hall. “What was I thinking--I’m gonna get in so much trouble. Why did I pull the fire alarm...Oh, _no_. Zayn, come _on._ ”

He tightens his hold on Zayn’s arm and keeps tugging him, probably scratching since his nails are so long and sharp, but he can’t help it. It feels like Zayn weighs a thousand pounds, just slumping his body to the side and moaning, and Harry must be superhuman or something as he keeps pulling him along. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn't know how he’s even breathing at this point. His ears hurt. His head is ringing. His heart burns with exertion. He's certain that Nate’s still following them.

Harry recognizes the nurse’s office that he’d just left only three more doors away, thank God, and as he pulls Zayn inside, people are starting to file out of classrooms due to the signal of the alarm.

“Going the wrong way, boys,” the secretary in the nurse’s office loudly says, walking around her desk. She points to the ceiling and begins shooing Harry and Zayn out the door again. “Fire drill. Everyone outside."

“But, ma’am, there isn’t,” Harry loudly insists. He’s all sweaty and sore. “I just hit the thing on accident! Zayn’s--in--he’s in heat, and everyone’s--out in the halls…”

She doesn’t seem to hear him correctly. “Yes, out in the hall,” she says nicely but urgently. “We need to line up outside the building. Come on now, boys.”

“But there aren’t any neutralizers outside!” Harry panics. He collapses to the floor , and the last thing he remembers is Zayn's weight going down with him.

Harry wakes up again in the back of the office, and when he opens his eyes, he sees the paper covering the cot next to him has crinkly indentions of what he guesses is from Zayn’s body. He can’t see where Zayn is now. He can’t even seem to lift his head, so he just closes his eyes again, wanting very much to sleep.

He can’t. People are loudly talking nearby. None of the voices are Zayn’s.

“I’m starting to get extremely concerned about your son’s well-being, Mrs. Styles. He’s in here on a weekly basis for some reason or another--and, of course, also when he’s taking his medicine--and I’m worried that, in addition to his overall health, it’ll start affecting his grades, as well. He’s shown signs of low blood pressure on numerous occasions--”

“We’ve taken him to the doctor so many times these past few months,” Harry hears his mom interrupt, sounding worried, too, “and they always say he’s fine but just give him instructions to change his diet. We’ve taken out all sodium, he doesn’t eat red meat anymore, and he’s cut back on soda--”

“Is he eating less than he should, perhaps? Maybe that’s why his blood sugar’s low. Does he take any other medicine we here at the school are not aware of?”

“No one’s seen any need to prescribe him any besides his nasal spray. And his inhaler, but he’s always had that. He’s always had bad allergies. But besides that...no, nothing.”

“Maybe it’s something to do with one of his internal organs. My mate had a thyroid issue and didn’t know about it until just last year, and since it’s been treated, she feels better than ever. Maybe you could consider having a scan done?”

“I don’t want machines hooked up to me,” Harry mumbles. He blinks open his eyes again and watches as his mom scurries over to him.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” he answers, blinking heavily. “Did I pass out or something?”

“You gave us all quite a scare,” the nurse says gently, nodding. After she checks his pulse and temperature, she looks at him solemnly before walking out of the room to give him some time alone with his mom.

“Sorry,” Harry says to his mom just as the nurse leaves. He doesn’t like causing so many problems--and he knows this is a problem because his mom should be at work right now--but how was he supposed to know he was going to faint? How was he supposed to know Zayn-- _?_

“ _Oh, no,_ ” Harry sits up and moans.

“What is it?” his mom quickly asks. “You’re about to panic. Calm down. Do you need your inhaler?”

“I attacked an Alpha,” Harry shakes his head and admits in a whisper. Then he chants it. “I attacked an Alpha…oh, Mom, I attacked an Alpha...”

“You what?”

“Zayn was in heat, and his friend was, like, sniffing him out, and I hit him! And then I cut him with my fingernails. I made him bleed.” He looks at his mom, and his pale face falls. “Mom, they’re gonna kick me out of school…”

She’s speechless for a while before she shakes her head. “No, they wouldn’t do that. You were protecting yourself and your friend. It’ll be okay.”

Harry returns the hug his mom gives him with double its strength. “What--what happened to Zayn? Where is he? He’s in heat, Mom,” he whispers.

She sweeps sweaty hair off his face. “He’s fine, baby. Did the Alpha do something to you?”

“No. But Zayn couldn’t walk, and...Mom, what happened to him?”

“He's fine, sweetheart,” his mom repeats. “His parents came and picked him up before I could get here, I heard.”

Harry stares ahead. “I’m in so much trouble, aren’t I?”

She’s quiet again. “Not with me. You haven’t done anything wrong. And I’m sure that the school can look at the tapes, and everything’ll all be okay.”

Nothing ever ends up happening. There’s no need to look at any school tapes because Nate never files an actual incident report, and apparently Zayn’s family never pursues anything, either. Harry doesn’t see even Zayn in class much after that, but as there’re only a few weeks left of school anyway, it’s not that noticeable. What is noticeable the following week are the scabby claw marks that run vertically down Nate’s face from his hairline to his chin, beginning at his nose and ending by his ear. Harry actively avoids the Alpha but can’t help overhearing him lie to his friends in the lunch-line the following week when they ask about what happened.

“Fucking crazy,” Nate mildly says, rolling his eyes and shaking his head with the perfect amount of disbelief. “Me and Dad went to the mountains this weekend, right? And--get this--a mountain lion--a fucking mountain lion, right?--jumped right out of some tree and tried to claw me to the ground. I scared him off before it got too bad, but yeah. Fucker got my face.”

“So that’s why you missed so many days this week,” the other guy replies, eyes wide like he’s impressed. Harry recognizes him as someone else Zayn’s friends with on MySpace, but he doesn’t stare for too long or anything because he doesn’t want anyone to realize he’s right behind them.

“Yeah. Didn’t want to come to school all jacked up like that. Dad had to take me to the hospital down there. And those doctors were fi- _ine,_ ” he enthuses. “Maybe I'll fight with more animals if it means staring at them,” he laughs.

“I don’t know, man,” another guy in the group tells Nate just as they’re all walking inside the room where all the food is. “Since when do you go hiking? And why couldn’t you see or hear a huge animal jump out of a tree before it got so close it literally jumped on your face?”

“‘Cause I was too busy thinking about your mom, duh,” Nate answers. The other Alpha pretends to punch Nate’s face as a joke, and they all laugh.

Something changes for Harry then. It’s bad that it had to come to something like what happened to Zayn for Harry to finally realize it, but he learns from that day that he can stick up to Alphas--even in small ways--and the world wouldn’t end, that the world might actually be a better place if he did stick up to them. Clearly they don’t see anything wrong with their actions, and even as an omega, he could fight back. He could make a difference. A small difference. He'd helped Zayn, at least.

Omegas may not be as strong as Alphas and they may not be as big as Alphas, but they’re people, too, and if Alphas could do whatever they wanted to, then so could he.

As Harry puts a few pieces of fruit on his tray and walks to line up at the check-out line, he makes sure to brush his shoulder against Nate’s when he walks by. He even makes eye contact when he passes.

 

* * *

 

It's the last month of school. Two weeks left. Louis still hasn't gotten better with sleeping in.

He takes his showers at night, so he after he looks at what time it is, he quickly gets dressed, washes his face, and brushes his teeth. His hair is all fluffy and sticking up in places, so he wets a comb and brushes it. It'll just have to do without being styled today.

His uncle James ends up being the only one free who can take him to school. Instead of driving to school, though, James stalls even more by stopping at McDonald’s, and at half past nine, he and Louis sit in the car and eat breakfast together with the windows down and a classic rock radio station playing lightly over the sound of the engine.

“Haven’t gotten to talk to you much lately,” James says after taking a bite of his biscuit. With his mouth full, James goes on. “So how ya been, kid?”

Louis makes a noise in his throat. “Okay.”

"Just okay? Not splendid on this glorious day? This fine May morning?”

Louis keeps chewing his egg mcmuffin. He manages a smile.

“What's new? Anything going on?”

Louis knows his uncle is talking about Harry in his own Cool-Uncle-James-way, but Louis tries to only think of Harry at nighttime and tries not to talk about him at all because it makes him feel bad. It’s clearly obvious Harry doesn’t come around the house anymore, and his mom and uncles already know what happened.

For now, Louis thinks of everything else going on in his life wondering how he’ll answer James.

School is pretty much the same as it’s been since he started. Which, to sum it up, is nothing spectacular. It's funny that he thought for so long that advancing to high school would be the same for him as advancing to middle school was. A bigger school, yeah, but ultimately no big deal. Just more people to make friends with. A good experience overall.

Wrong.

Since the second semester’s started, the only thing Louis’s honestly looked forward to is the theater class he’s gotten to join, and the other classes have only been manageable because he gets to socialize during most of them. The actual work isn’t tough, but it still sucks. At least it’s all almost over.

Louis hasn’t told James yet, but he’s unsure if he’ll even play football again come fall. He just can’t stand the other Alphas anymore. He's a decent player, but all his teammates did last season was yell at him on the field and treat him like a bitch in the locker room. Soccer’s just about the same. While he’s actually good at that sport and he knows it, he’s not very well-liked since he's a freshman, and he doesn’t get to play very often.

He won’t say it out loud, but he’s the most insecure he’s been in his entire life.

His friendships are solid, so there’s that. Calvin’s always been a less of a dick when he’s single, and ever since he ditched Stephanie right before Valentine’s Day, he’s gone back to being the same old Calvin Louis’s always known--funny and happy and carefree and stupid in the best of ways. It keeps Louis’ spirits up. Makes him forget things. Oli’s quiet and sort of shier these days, but he's always been by Louis’ side. And Stan’s…Stan. Stan has always reminded Louis of a dog...just always around. Always in a good mood. Always happy to see everybody.

Louis’ actual dog isn’t doing so well. He’s not very old--Louis has seen dogs who’re older--but he’s been told that because Ted’s a golden retriever, seven is sort of towards the old side. He’s got a lot of stuff wrong with his hip. It’d be cool to give him a robot hip and make him all better. As it is, though, he takes a lot of medicine and lays around the house a lot. Louis’s been letting him sleep in his bed because he likes the warmth.

Then there’s his ...girlfriend, he guesses is what she is. Louis doesn’t even like to think about Hannah, let alone be alone with her, but if he’s honest, on some days being around her makes him feel a little less empty about the whole situation with Harry. Going so long without talking to Harry just...sucks. He hopes the gifts he gives to Gemma at school actually get to him. Knowing their dad, half the shit’s probably confiscated just ‘cause he's a crappy person who never wants his family to have new things.

So, yeah. Hannah. Now that Calvin and Steph had their big dramatic break-up, whenever Louis sees Hannah, it’s always by herself. They all used to go to places as one big group, and now they can't. He’d definitely prefer the double-dates over hanging out with Hannah alone. She’s starting to ask for more, and picturing Harry’s face on top of Hannah’s only works part of the time.

It’d be easier if she had brown hair.

So that’s Louis’ life.

“I mean, shit could be better,” Louis finally just answers. James always lets him cuss in front of him.

 

* * *

 

Zayn rings Harry’s doorbell on the first day of summer break. For an omega, he’s always been sort of proud. Harry knows that he doesn’t really apologize to people much. At least not out loud. So when he looks at Harry with wide eyes and holds out his arms, Harry tries not to make the moment sappy by crying. He just slams his body to Zayn’s and squeezes him tight, and Zayn lets out a relieved laugh.

They stay inside for a little bit, trying to act normal but failing. Harry’s learned from his parents and Gemma that there’s a time after arguments when people just need to be quiet together. Plus, a really bad thing happened that he doesn’t think either of them will ever forget, but he won’t talk about it to Zayn unless he mentions it first.

Harry eventually just takes a few pieces of fruit in his hands and suggests going outside to sit together on the stoop. At least that way they can act like they’re doing some type of activity. While Harry eats his first apple, Zayn stares at the house next door for a really long time.

“Thank you, Harry, really,” Zayn finally mumbles. “I would’ve come by sooner, but...a lot’s been going on.”

“It’s okay,” Harry answers quietly, then he smiles softly. “And you’re welcome.”

“I’ve been getting online for weeks,” Zayn says in the form of a question.

“Oh, I…” Harry starts to come up with some sort of explanation, but he doesn’t want to get into the story right now. “I’m not on much anymore.”

Zayn’s voice is quiet when he goes on, “Lots of people have deleted me, anyway. Guess I know who my friends really are now.”

“People aren’t always what they seem,” responds Harry quietly, too. You could know someone your whole life and then...nothing. You're nothing.

“Yeah.” Zayn keeps his eyes trained to the ground. “You hear about it, you know, ‘cause…’cause heats just happen and omegas can’t help it, but. I just never thought…” He shakes his head. “It's like something you read in History books, like stuff that happened a long time ago,” he finishes uneloquently.

“I guess some Alphas were never taught to, like...be respectful.”

“Too many Alphas,” Zayn mutters.

“I’m really sorry that he did that to you. He’s definitely not a real friend.”

Zayn looks at Harry then, and he stares deep into Harry’s eyes like he’s reading his thoughts, then he nods.

They’re silent again. Harry throws the core of his apple in the dirt beneath a bush before picking up another one. “Can I ask you something if you promise not to get mad?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Why’d you wanna hang out with so many Alphas for, anyway?”

Zayn looks out at the sunset like he’s thinking really hard, but instead of answering, he asks a question himself. “Have you ever stopped and thought about what it would be like if you were an Alpha and not an omega? Like, if you were born that way?”

“No, not really,” Harry says, biting into the new apple with a huge crunch. “Not before you just asked me.”

“Well. Just think about it. Really think about it.”

“Okay.”

Harry thinks. If he was an Alpha, the first thing he thinks about is peeing standing up. And being hairy. And having to make decisions all the time. And ruts, ew.

“I don’t think I’d like it,” he decides.

“Why not?”

Harry shrugs. “Because I’m an omega. I think it would be too big of a change.”

“Aren’t you tired of Alphas picking on you, though? Doesn’t it get old, having them say shit about your heats or stupid stuff like that?”

“I mean. Yeah. It really sucks when anybody’s mean. It’s not how we should treat each other. But that doesn’t say anything about me. That says something about the bullies. If I was an Alpha, and I mean _if,_ ‘cause I don’t want to be an Alpha, but if I was an Alpha, I would treat everyone the same. I think most Alphas, like, think they’re better than everyone else.”

“Well, yeah, because they’re Alphas,” Zayn argues. “Like, when I was with them, it was like I was a completely different person. I could just...do whatever I wanted. People forgot I was an omega because I smelled so much like my Alpha friends. No one looked at me and, like, judged me without even knowing anything about me. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods slowly. He’s holding a lot back. “I get it.”

Zayn looks at Harry suspiciously, confused at the look on his face. “What?”

“It’s just, you sort of turned into a jerk,” Harry admits, grimacing a little as he says it. “Like you acted like you were better than other people.” He bites his apple again to try to escape the tension his words have just caused. He side-eyes Zayn, chewing. “‘S just the truth…”

Zayn shakes his head at himself. “I’m really sorry.”

Harry smiles. “I forgive you.”

“That’s twice now you’ve saved my ass from Alphas, so.”

“Just choose nicer Alphas to have as your friends,” Harry replies.

“Not everyone is Louis,” Zayn chuckles. Harry doesn't comment.

Zayn runs his fingers through his hair after a long silent moment. “I did hear he was in rut,” he mumbles. “I don't think he would normally--”

“Don’t let him use that as an excuse. That’s not an excuse.” Harry hears the words come out of his mouth and knows while many people would think he’s being a bitch, his sister would be proud if she was eavesdropping right now.

Zayn sighs. “You really got lucky finding Louis, man.”

Harry wants to ignore everything related to Louis, including his name, but he clearly can’t. He doesn’t look at Zayn while he asks, “Why?”

“He’s just so freakin’ nice.”

Harry just grumbles. “C’mon, Zayn. Your sister’s an Alpha, and she’s nice. My sister’s an Alpha, and she’s...nice sometimes. And other Alphas I know are nice. Just ‘cause someone’s an Alpha doesn’t mean they have to be a jerk. It’s not like it’s the rule. Alphas just act like that ‘cause they can get away with it. And our school is like a giant pool of crappy Alphas.”

“I never knew you were, like….such an omega right’s guy,” Zayn remarks.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I just want people to be treated the same no matter who they are.”

“I don’t even know who I am,” Zayn melodramatically admits.

Harry thinks about his life and sighs. “Me either.”

Why can’t they be kids again? Why can’t things be easy like they used to be? He’d love it if the reasons he cried were because he stubbed his toe or lost his favorite stuffed animal or Zayn’s dad said he couldn’t stay the night that Friday, or-- _anything_ besides the shit going on inside his head now. He has his friends from choir and now he has Zayn back, too, but he can't help but still feel so alone.

Suddenly, Zayn’s eyes widen, and about three seconds later, Harry can already feel and smell the coppery odor of blood trail down and out of his right nostril. He tilts his head back and puts his fingers up to his nose. “Crab.”

“Crab?”

“Crabp,” Harry tries to correct.

Zayn scrunches his face in confusion.

“I’be fine,” Harry nasally answers. “I get’ ‘em all da tibe.”

“...Isn’t that bad?”

Harry tries to smile. “I’be got a funny nose.”

After Harry goes inside and lies down horizontally for thirty minutes with a tissue to his nose, he and Zayn play hacky-sack outside in the back.

“We used to be awesome at this,” Zayn laughs. “What happened?”

“I suck,” Harry admits with a smile, hopping the little beanbag around on his left shoe. “I can’t use my right leg the same.”

Zayn looks guilty. “So it’s not all the way better?”

“I don’t think it ever will be,” Harry says, passing the sack to Zayn. “But it doesn’t, like, hurt all the time or anything. Just sometimes. Like when the weather’s cold.”

“Sick,” Zayn enthuses.

Harry grins. “I know, right?”

Zayn just kicks the tiny knitted ball away from him after a few seconds. “So hey. If I know a guy who knows a guy who can get us alcohol, would you be down to maybe drink sometime this summer?”

“Um.” Harry looks away from Zayn and shrugs. “I guess.”

“Okay. I mean, it's just an idea. My parents are going on two cruises this summer, but me and Doniya won't go ‘cause we get seasick. Our uncle from the city’s gonna watch us, but really we’re staying home all alone.” He wags his eyebrows.

Harry's never even thought about drinking before. He's had no desire to. But maybe it'll be fun, even if all the teachers at school say it's dangerous. He remembers seeing the adults at Louis’ mom’s parties drink and have fun when he was little, so it can't be so bad.

He smiles at Zayn.

“You haven’t been over my house in forever,” Zayn tells him sadly. “I’ll tell you when we can do it. You need to freakin’ get online, though!”

 

* * *

 

“Just pass me the ball!” Louis shouts, agitated and covered in sweat and mud. It’s lightly raining, but that’s not what’s bothering him; it’s the fact that everyone fucking sucks. For the past half-hour now, no one has followed what the simple instructions are ( _play_ ), no one has scored, and no one has shown any talent at all.

They’re all either hogging the soccer ball or jogging lightly with no destination, but there isn’t any teamwork, and after Louis gets himself open and waits for the assist that never comes, he feels the frustration build up inside of him until he finally has to scream in order to make it better.

“For Christ’s sake! You--!” Louis points at some kid named Lucas-- “and you--!” he points at someone else-- “need to stop hogging the ball! It’s not that hard! I’m wide open over here!”

A broad-shouldered guy named Jesse wearing an armband over his shirt struts over and immediately shouts at Louis,“Hey! Don’t order my players around, twerp. I'm Captain.”

“Then act like it,” Louis spits. “Unite the team. Give them advice instead of standing there watching them suck! Be a captain. Everyone’s out here like animals skipping in mud!” He points at Luke and goes on, “This one stays put by the goal so much I don’t even know if he’s aware what position he’s supposed to be playing, and--”

Jesse stands up taller. “You think you’re a big shot or somethin’ now just ‘cause you got your little girlfriend and side-kick here to cheer you on?”

Louis looks at Hannah and Stan watching under an umbrella from behind a far-away fence. He shrugs. “At least I’m good enough to attract some fans. What can you say for yourself? You can’t even get a few Alphas who’ve been playin’ soccer since they were little to even kick a ball straight. And here I thought Summer Soccer League was supposed to be for players who are fucking good.”

“Oh, shut the hell up, _Tommo_ ,” Jesse mocks. “Don't cuss at me. It ain't me who’s the problem here, and it ain't my team. It’s you.”

“We’ll see about that. You just let your playing do the talking, _Captain_.” Louis flashes his eyes and jogs backwards with his arms spread open, grinning though he wants to scowl. His hair is damp, so he flicks it off his forehead as he continues to taunt. “Did you become Captain because of your talert or your height?”

“I didn’t hear you bein’ all big and bad when you were warmin’ up the football bench for me last fall.” Jesse advances until he’s just a few inches away from Louis’ face. “Did you finally grow some balls or are you just talkin’ shit ‘cause you’ve got a friend here to back you up?”

From close to Louis’ side, Calvin growls. “Leave me out of this shit.”

“Funny you’re asking if I’ve grown balls when yours are so small they--”

Jesse shoves Louis. “My balls are bigger than yours any day of the week.”

Louis clenches his jaw and tilts his head to the side.

Jesse stands firm, cracking his knuckles. “Give me another order, Tomlinson. Threaten me again. Tell me how to run my team.”

“Here’s an order for you,” Louis says too calmly, swinging his right arm back behind his body. As his fist connects with Jesse’s jaw, he yells, “Eat shit!”

Afterwards, standing alone after ordering Stan to get Hannah home, Louis calls his uncle and tells him he’s already got a ride. In the steadily-falling rain, he walks a few miles to his home and goes straight into the bathroom without speaking to anyone.

The hot water of the shower hurts the coldness the rain’s caused on his skin, and it tingles in a painful way that Louis doesn’t even really mind. He’s only got a busted lip and a cut above his eye when Jesse’s entire right eye swelled shut, so all-in-all, he came out the winner, really.

Louis knows the team coordinator is going to call his mom about what happened if Jesse hasn’t gotten him to call already, so when everyone’s gone to bed, he takes the landline phone with him into his bedroom and messes around with it until he figures out how to block any numbers affiliated with the league. For good measure, he does the same thing with his mom’s cell phone and considers it a done deal.

It's Summer Soccer League. It's not like he got kicked off the school team or anything.

Still, though, his mom would absolutely banish him from all nice things all summer long if he admitted he's gotten in another fight. She hates violence so much she grounded Louis for an entire month last time.

He decides to just not tell her anything. For all she knows, he's still playing on the league. His split lip and cut skin is from an elbow to the face.

It’s not until everyone’s at the dinner table--the nice one--a few weeks later that he’s forced to address it. Jacob, normally falling into the role of house-babysitter and chauffeur, never gets to go to any of Louis’ games during the school-year, so it’s natural small-talk for him to ask Louis about it. He's just got finished asking the other children about their interests, so Louis’s had time to prepare his lie.

Then he thinks better of it. He's got two grown Alphas sitting there who’d be able to smell through the lie within seconds.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t play anymore, actually,” he answers. Before anyone can say anything, he quickly goes on, “I just don’t really have the time for it anymore. I’ve been doing so much with work for the neighbors, and I have summer assignments for school and all--” and that’s around the time James becomes so shocked he stops eating entirely and even puts down his utensils to interrupt, “What do you mean you don’t play anymore?”

Austin exits the room to apparently clean something up in the kitchen. Daisy’s just escaped her chair from the end of the table to run next to Louis, whining with her arms up. Now standing up in her own chair, Phoebe is throwing food across the table and on the floor that Ted is hastily gobbling up, Lottie’s beside Phoebe hiding her food in her milk, and Fizzy’s  next to Louis singing. Jacob has gone silent at the other end of the table while nursing Conor under his shirt, and Louis’ mom and uncle sit next to each other right in front of Louis, staring at him.

“I don't play on the League anymore,” Louis repeats. Not a lie. Not a lie.

He uncle squints his eyes. “You quit the soccer team?”

Louis just nods while pushing himself away from the table a bit so he can pick up Daisy. When he places her on his knee, he grunts. “Jeez, you’re heavy, girl.” He exaggerates by pretending to make his leg fall to the ground. She just laughs. She’s so big now that, sitting on Louis’ lap, her head is above Louis’.

“I can’t believe you just quit, Louis,” James continues.

Louis shrugs. He reaches way down the table for Daisy’s fork since she’s begun eating his food already. They silently chew together while he feels his eldest family members stare at him.

“Look, I don’t want to get into it,” he explains. “I just don’t want to play anymore.”

“So you just quit?” James clarifies. “Didn’t even wait until the end of the season?”

“It's Summer League. I just don’t wanna play it anymore,” he repeats in a mutter, dropping food to Ted who’s currently begging under his chair.

His mom looks concerned. “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

Louis diverts his eyes. “We got to sign up for next year’s classes online today. I signed up for theater. For the whole year. Hopefully they’ll add me. I mean, with last semester, I don’t see why they wouldn’t, but…” he trails off, shrugging. “If I get any parts next year, that’ll take up a lot of my time. And I’m trying to get an actual job, too, so there’s that.”

James grunts. “That has nothing to do with--”

“As a sophomore?” Jacob asks curiously.

“Yeah,” Louis responds with his mouth full, “why not?”

Jacob chuckles. “Can’t you just be a normal kid and be lazy?”

Being lazy makes his mind wander. When he’s doing stuff, at least he doesn’t have to think. His thoughts get...unpredictable.

To save him from answering, Louis makes a funny face and sticks out his tongue, showing everyone at the table the ground-up meat in his mouth.

“Ewww!” his sisters shriek. Then they do it, too.

“Louis, honestly,” his mom chides.

When Louis’ done crossing his eyes at his little sisters, he swallows his food with a long drink of soda. “What? I’m just being a normal kid.”

Daisy starts squirming on his lap. “Lewee,” she says.

“I know some places that hire fifteen-year-olds,” Louis continues to respond to Jacob, looking between him and his mom. “Right? Don’t they, Mom?”

“Lewee!”

“I believe so, yes,” she agrees. “You could probably bag groceries somewhere.”

Daisy turns around on Louis’ lap and smacks his face to get his attention. Louis takes her hand firmly in his. “ _Hitting people hurts,_ ” he says sternly. “Don’t do that again.”

“You know not to hit,” Louis’ mom scolds.

“Mom, I just told her that,” Louis huffs, letting her hand go.

“Well, I’m her mother.”

“Louis, there’s something called integrity,” James interrupts Jay to say. “You sign up for something, you see it through. You don’t just quit halfway through! I mean, come on. What kind of Alpha does that?”

Louis throws his fork on his plate so loud it makes a clanging sound. “This one!”

“Jamie, stop it,” Jay orders above Louis. She’s gone from zero-to-full-blown-Alpha, and so has Louis. “Don’t ever talk to him like that.”

“Guys,” Lottie whines, “stop being so growly. Gosh. He just doesn’t want to play soccer! What’s it matter?”

“Thank you, Lottie.”

Louis goes to his bedroom after the rest of a tense dinner. It sucks that the soccer thing had to come up. It was one of those rare evenings when everyone’s actually home to eat together at the same time, and he ruined it.

Oh, well. He can’t do anything right.

Louis climbs into bed and watches television for a few hours. He knows what’s coming when he closes his eyes, so he puts it off for as long as he can, but it’s inevitable. About three or four times a week, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night feeling like he’s going insane from the dreams he has, and for months now he’s kept it from everybody.

Having dreams about Harry isn’t anything unusual for him. Unfortunately, what used to be nice and pleasant dreams have turned into nightmares.

Always, always, always, he and Harry are doing something happy together and then Harry turns cold and his heart stops beating. The last image in Louis’ head when he wakes up with a gasp is always him desperately searching for Harry’s pulse, some little thud under Harry’s chest, open eyes, a chest that’s moving--something--and it’s no different when it happens on this night. After his own heart-rate settles, he blearily pets Ted’s head and tells him it’s okay before just getting out of his sweaty bed entirely and trudging downstairs.

Whatever time it is, the adults are still up. And they’re arguing. About him. Because of course they are. His uncle’s too-caffeinated voice reverberates up the stairs.

“You don’t see it?”

“James, I’m telling you, it--will--be--fine. He’s fine.”

“All the signs are there, Jay--it’s so fucking obvious already--the aggression, the depression--”

Louis doesn’t care what he’s walking into, and he heads into the kitchen without warning. His uncle and his mom turn their heads suddenly, and as Louis walks past his mom to the refrigerator, he watches as her eyes go from red to red-rimmed and then back to blue.

He brings his fingers up to his eyes and rubs. He’s just so tired of this.

So he’s not fucking playing soccer. _Summer League Soccer._ So he didn’t sign up for any advanced placement classes for tenth grade. This is why he never tells anybody anything. They just fight about it when he’s not around, compare him to other Alphas and worry that he's got some sort of diagnosis. Louis thinks Jacob spends his time psychoanalyzing him and sharing his thoughts with everyone else or something. They all must think he’s a permanent fuck-up.

Of course, maybe they were just talking about Conor. Louis laughs to himself as he opens the refrigerator door. He’s gone crazy. He’s gone absolutely crazy.

“You alright, hon?”

Louis just nods. “Perfect,” he says crystal-clear. He’s not.

The refrigerator is bright and cold as he stands in front of it, feeling watched. He finally just pulls out a few pieces of cold pizza and shuts the door again. Dragging his feet like he’s sleepwalking, he goes back upstairs and eats in bed. He doesn’t go back to sleep.


	9. it's not good to be all alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly don't rely on me when I say when I can/will update. Sometimes I get more time and motivation than I was expecting. :) also omg -- last time, googledocs left in my italicized words but messed up the spacing, and this time they got rid of my italics altogether. It'll be fixed. In time. For now just say things with emphasis inside your head.

**Thirteen and Fifteen**  
**Summer**

As the summer has gone on, Louis’s started to get the distinct impression that all the adults in the house have begun to actively keep things from him. He notices them staring at him when they think he’s not looking. Notices them stopping their conversations whenever he enters a room they’re already occupying. He’s picked up on the fact that their questions have gotten more nosy and, at the same time, their answers more unclear.

Well, then, he just makes his answers to their prying questions unclear, too. He keeps things from a lot of people these days.

It’s impossible to hide that he doesn’t see Harry anymore, though. Besides the obvious fact that Harry hasn’t been to the house in over a year, Louis knows that everybody--at least the adults--can smell that he’s got someone else’s scent on him most of the time now. And that he’s not happy about it.

Everything that Des had told him that night--everything from backing off from Harry, waiting until he’s seventeen to court him, waiting until Harry himself has graduated to mate him--has all been communicated to the Tomlinson household, as well. No one’s ever outright told Louis anything, but Louis’s not dumb. He knows his mom and Anne still talk.

“He’s his father, you know, so he makes the rules right now,” his mom just says whenever he feels extra angry enough to vent about Des.

“Mom, I get it,” Louis will always argue. “But it’s completely ridiculous how he’s saying I can’t even talk to Harry anymore. Can’t even talk to him! I can’t talk to him or we’re both screwed. Harry gets put on freakin’ house-arrest and I get more hated.”

“You’re not hated, Louis…”

Yeah, whatever. He’s hated enough that he’s not supposed to have any contact with Harry at all, and that’s a load of shit.

Louis isn’t one to follow rules just because they’re rules. He’s not keeping away from Harry because he’s listening to Des; he’s keeping away because he knows the consequences for Harry if he doesn't listen. Des had practically threatened to move to another state if he caught Louis with Harry again.

So. Louis’s just gotta be smart.

He knows his options.

1\. Ignore Des and visit Harry anyway--Out of the question.  
2\. Call Harry when he thinks Des won’t be home--Still out of the question. He’d blocked his number before calling on three different times--morning, noon and night--but when a man’s voice answered each time, he hung up. If Harry could just freakin’ get a cell phone...  
3\. Write Harry notes--Maybe as a last resort, but what if Harry thought that was awfully un-Alpha-like, and what if his dad snooped in his room and read them?  
4\. Email Harry--Probably not. He doesn’t know Harry’s email address, and what if his dad checked it behind his back or something?  
5\. Communicate through Gemma--Easier said than done. Gemma’s always with friends when Louis sees her. When he’s really wanted to, he’s given Gemma gifts at school to give to Harry, but they usually always have to pass through someone else’s hands first. Who knows if they even get to her brother.  
6\. Message Harry online.

Number six has been his only choice to deliberately contact Harry for the past year. That’s the only thing his paranoid brain thinks can’t really be tracked. Problem is, the two messages he’s sent throughout the year have both gone unanswered, and he thinks sending a third would be too pushy.

It just doesn’t seem like Harry gets online anymore. Louis checks all the time, but Harry’s last log-in date is always the same--last October. That’s, like, almost a whole year without getting on MySpace. It just sucks. Last summer they spent an entire month doing nothing but getting on AIM and MySpace, now nothing.

There’s something called Facebook people have been telling Louis about, but he doesn’t use it yet. He doubts Harry would, anyway.

Louis doesn’t know what else he can do. They do live in a super overpopulated town, but they still used to run into each other at random places like the store or whatever. Nowadays, even seeing Harry by chance isn’t even in Louis’ favor.

He’s stayed internally bitter about the whole situation ever since last summer, but after a whole year to think about it, he’s almost positive he can negotiate with Des once Harry’s in high school. Louis can’t wait until Harry’s seventeen to court him. He just can’t do that. Harry wouldn’t be seventeen until the eleventh grade, and Louis would be out of high school by then. And he wouldn’t be eighteen until Louis was already a sophomore in college. Louis can understand the mating thing, ‘cause underage mating is really looked down upon, but courting? Come on. Seventeen is a ridiculously late age to start courting.

Fourteen is more fair. Louis can work with fourteen. That’s just one more stupid year.

The waiting is what sucks. The having-to-practice-with-someone-else-other-than-Harry is what sucks. The feeling-like-his-balls-are-so-small-they’re-inside-his-body-from-having-to-listen-to-what-a-stupid-Beta-tells-him-to is what sucks.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“C’mon, Harry, don’t stay at home tonight just ‘cause an Alpha’ll be there. He’s the one who’s bringing the stuff.”

“Shh,” Harry hisses into the receiver before looking around the room like someone can overhear his conversation with Zayn. The house-phone in his kitchen is so freaking old that it’s still attached to the wall and has a long cord hanging from it, and while Harry knows from watching his mom that the cord can stretch all the way outside if he wanted it to, Harry remains inside so nothing seems suspicious.

“We couldn’t just take liquor from him and then kick him out,” Zayn continues, speaking quieter. “But it’s fine. I know him. Doniya used to go out with him.”

Harry stalls. “I don’t know...She’s gone out with other Alphas who you said were expelled from school.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, “but they were all from the city. I think she’s sticking with omegas now. But Kevin is cool, I swear. And Niall will be there, anyway. It’s not like--”

“Niall’s coming?”

“Yeah, he knows Kevin’s little brother from somewhere. When he found out what was goin’ on, he said he wanted to get drunk, too.”

“Shh!!”

“I’m just sayin’, you don’t have to worry. He won’t be the only Alpha, and you won’t be the only omega. I’m there, too, you know.” He laughs. “It’s my house.”

Harry slumps his shoulders and looks at the backpack he’s stuffed with clothes by his feet. “Fine,” he finally relents. “Mom’ll drop me off after dinner.”

That night, Zayn, Niall, Harry, and an older Alpha named Kevin who has really short, reddish-brown hair all sit cross-legged in a circle on the carpet of Zayn’s big room. Kevin turns out to be just as nice as Zayn described him, and he’s cute, too. When he scoots forward a bit to close off the gaps in between everybody, he touches Harry’s knee with his own.

Harry can’t stop nervously shifting his weight back and forth from leg to leg. He’s excited, but he’s nervous. There’s an older Alpha sitting right next to him. That he doesn’t know. From high school. And they’re about to drink alcohol. Even though Zayn and Niall are here, too, it still gets Harry’s palms sweaty because he knows he’s breaking a ton of rules right now. Rules that have never really been set, but the feeling is there deep inside that he’s being bad. He knows he’s misbehaving. He’s drinking alcohol, for God’s sake. With Alphas. His dad would murder him if he found out.

But this is what he needs to do. Let loose. He can’t keep being a scared and obedient little omega anymore. It’s gotten him nowhere. He’s gotta make some changes if he ever wants to feel better about his life.

Ever since the incident with Nate, Harry’s become braver...in small ways. He’s made actual eye contact with Alphas since then, at least on three different occasions. And on the last day of school when everyone was cleaning out their lockers, he called two of them rude when they decided to empty the big giant trash can filled with loose paper all over the hall.

No one has to know that what Harry really feels on the inside is pure insecurity and fear. Always fear, even though he tries to make himself not smell like it. And what’s he so afraid of? He asks himself a lot. He guesses he’s afraid of appearing too weak. Afraid of getting random nosebleeds in front of people. Afraid of...anything and everything, really. Hopefully he’s masking it well enough that anyone who looks at him just sees a cool omega who doesn’t care about anything.

Especially not about drinking a little alcohol.

You know, Harry’s thought about it before--because he can’t just not think of Louis even though he desperately wants to not think of Louis--and Louis probably drinks. Harry already knows that Louis smokes cigarettes sometimes, so why wouldn’t he drink?

Pshh, Harry can drink. No big deal. No big deal at all.

Not that he’s doing things just ‘cause Louis’s doing them. No, no, no. Because that’s not something Harry does. No one’s ever seen Harry do flips off Louis’ diving board before jumping in the pool like Louis does. No one’s ever seen Harry climb to the top of a tree like Louis’s good at doing and then jump off. No one’s ever seen Harry out there playing a billion sports all year long just because Louis does, just because Louis’s so perfect and so athletic that he can’t help but play every game the world has ever come up with. And also, no one’s ever seen Harry choose a girl over his lifelong friendships with other people.

Harry’s his own person. He’s a teenager now. He can have fun, too. He can be bad, too. It’s time for him to grow up, move on, and ditch whatever stupid and childish fantasy he has of ever being Louis’ mate.

“Who wants to go first?” Kevin asks, looking around and breaking Harry out of his angry thoughts. “I got two bottles here, but we should start with the vodka. Harry, you’re the virgin in the room,” he makes eye contact with Harry and states. “Why don’t you drink first?”

“Um, okay, sure,” Harry agrees, blushing.

He’s never gotten drunk before, but he really really really doesn’t want everyone thinking he’s a wimp. He’s pretty sure Niall has maybe drank before, but he doesn’t know about Zayn since he kind of went off-the-radar for a whole year. Kevin definitely has, and while Harry wants to impress the whole group, something inside of him especially wants Kevin to think he’s cool, too. His palms feel tingly as he accepts the bottle.

Like everything he does, Harry is sloppy and slow with his actions. He fills his shotglass too much, and alcohol spills on the floor.

“Oops! Sorry! Sorry,” he apologizes to Zayn. Zayn shrugs.

When Harry brings the glass to his lips, the vodka spills all over his mouth and runs down his chin. It stinks and tastes gross like bad medicine, but Harry drinks it anyways because that’s the point of what they’re here to do.

“Ughhh.” A look of pure disgust covers his face when he’s through. He inadvertently winces for several moments after he sets down the glass.

Kevin quickly pushes a two-liter bottle of soda to Harry. “Chase it with this. Drink it, quick.”

Harry does, but it makes no difference. The soda is warm, and his mouth tastes nasty. A pool of liquid sits in his stomach just burning away the lining there, and his mouth, throat, and esophagus hurt, too.

He watches Zayn take his shot more gracefully. Niall tries to act brave, but he's more like Harry with the way his face screws up, and then Kevin drinks it like it’s water. When the bottle and glass come back to Harry, he mentally prepares himself for the taste.

It is still the most disgusting thing he's ever drank, but he tilts his head back like the others do and this time remembers to drink from the bottle of soda afterwards. That makes it a little better.

Despite the bad side effects, Harry feels good in just a few moments, smiling goofily at the numbness of his lips. They all take a shot a third time, and Harry purposefully ignores the burn of the booze going down that time. He knows to expect it. He looks at Niall and Zayn, and they all smile at one another.

“You wanna do one more?” Kevin asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry agrees. He feels so happy and giggly, so very cool to be in the presence of a senior Alpha. He’s ready to get drunk. He already feels like doing something crazy--like take off all his clothes and run around outside like he used to do as a kid. Maybe he will.

Zayn scoots closer to Harry, and the contact feels good to Harry. He’s freakin’ missed Zayn. “I freakin’ miss you, Zayn,” he says. He rests his head on Zayn’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“We’re doing another one, H,” Zayn says, shaking Harry and grinning. “Harry.”

“Oh!” Harry exclaims loudly, head popping up. He covers his mouth with his hand, giggling. “I forgot.”

Taking the fourth shot, Harry barely even makes a face. And on the fifth, he doesn't even need his soda anymore.

“When are we supposed to feel drunk?” he asks.

“You’re not feeling anything?” Kevin asks. He’s close to Harry’s side now. Harry doesn’t know if he feels anything close to intoxication since he doesn't know what that's supposed to feel like, but he does know he feels very warm, almost sweaty. He’s still cross-legged on the floor, and his upper body begins to sway in a circle.

Kevin lets Harry sip from the other bottle and watches until he sets it down on the floor again. “You’re an interesting omega.”

Harry giggles. His voice has gotten so deep that it sounds sort of silly to giggle. He covers his mouth to stop the sound, and that’s when he starts to hiccup.

The next thing Harry remembers, he’s sitting on the edge of Zayn’s bed, leaning over and throwing up into a trash can. His body feels really weird and loose, like he can't control it or lift his limbs. He can't see much, either, and he feels awful. His throat and stomach burn, way worse than before. Snot and vomit drip out of his nose. He’s confused.

Kevin holds Harry's short curls back from his mouth as his belly involuntarily constricts and heaves, and Harry smells faint cigarette smoke as his stomach lurches and empties even more. Everything smells sickly-sweet coming out.

He wipes his mouth and slurs, “Louis?”

Harry wakes up again lying on Zayn’s bed. He's fallen asleep on top of the covers without any pants on, and he doesn't know where Zayn or Niall are. Kevin is awake at the foot of the bed, though, staring at him. Harry kicks his blurry feet at Kevin to make him go away because he’s too close and Harry’s too tired, his mouth unable to work. He’s gotten irritable. When he feels his feet connect with Kevin’s face, he thinks he hears Niall speaking from far away. He goes back to sleep.

The next time Harry awakes, it’s morning, and he has a blanket covering him. He blearily looks around and realizes he’s in Zayn’s room--still in Zayn’s bed--and is all alone.

He can barely swallow. Loud birds screech outside and make his head pound, and the sun is far too bright. As he sits up, his head feels like it’s being continuously punched.

It’s horrible. It’s a horrible thing.

So. Getting drunk sucked. Why would anybody want to make themselves feel like this on purpose? All for a tiny bit of a good feeling and then a bunch of puke?

Oh--bad, bad smelling puke. Oh, God, it reeks. There’s a trashcan on the floor with what Harry already knows is his own vomit.

With his fingers plugging his nose, Harry finds his jeans somewhere on the floor, gets dressed with difficulty, and hesitantly walks out into the hall. Just moving around makes him want to die, and he swears he's never going to drink ever, ever again. He wonders if anyone else had the same experience.

When Harry quietly walks downstairs, Zayn is kind of awake, lying horizontally on the couch watching television with squinty eyes. Harry collapses on the couch by his feet. Everything hurts.

Niall’s asleep on the floor in front of another couch, lying there without any blanket or pillow, snoring with his mouth wide open.

Harry tries speaking, but his throat is froggy. God, he feels like crap. “I threw up,” he finally gets out.

“I think we both threw up,” Zayn mutters. He groans and snuggles more into the couch. There’s a small blanket he’s got covering himself, and Harry lies horizontally with Zayn so he can get under it too, too. With his feet by Zayn’s shoulders, he squirms his body into the back of the couch until it’s like he’s being eaten by it.

“I definitely threw up. I don’t remember anything _besides_ throwing up,” Harry murmurs. He closes his eyes. His head hurts so bad.

“Me, either,” Zayn says, yawning.

“Where did that Alpha Kevin go?”

Zayn shrugs.

“Where’s your sister at?”

Zayn shrugs again. “Still at her boyfriend’s house, I guess.”

“Is she gonna tell you on when she comes home and smells the house?”

Zayn moves around a bit then shakes his head. “She already knew what we were gonna do. But I have blackmail on her, so she really can’t tell on us ‘cause then I’ll tell Mom and Dad what she did in their bed.”

“Gross.”

Zayn makes a face that matches Harry’s. “She just told me we have to clean up real good.”

Zayn and Harry don’t clean it immediately, choosing instead to eat food. Harry’s so thirsty he drinks a full bottle of water at once but immediately regrets it. Luckily, he doesn’t throw up again, but he has to nap for another hour or so on the couch with Zayn. He doesn’t move again until he realizes that he won’t truly settle until he’s cleaned up the mess he’s made. Luckily it only takes about half an hour or so because everyone had only used one shot glass last night. All he really has to do is take out the trash, spray everything down, and scrub.

When he’s done, it’s back on the couch with Zayn.

“You two are never drinking again,” Niall says when he finally wakes up. Still on the floor, he sits upright and leans against the couch, staring at Zayn and Harry with bloodshot eyes. “You had this place smelling so freakin’ bad last night I had to sleep down here.”

Harry feels bad. “I just picked up everything.”

Zayn groans. “Don’t hate me. I made food. There’s nachos in the microwave.”

Niall yawns widely and nods as he’s doing so. His hair is very long these days, almost all the way in his eyes. It’s like a big, furry animal on top of his head.

“Did you throw up, too?” Harry asks.

With his arms now way above his head and his body bowed back in a stretch, Niall shakes his head. “I'm an Alpha.”

“So you don't have the ability to throw up?” Zayn asks sarcastically.

Niall shakes his head as if to get rid of some funk in his hair, and then he sits up again, finally back to normal. “No, but I can handle my liquor better than omegas can. You two were freakin’ wasted.”

“Well,” Harry starts defensively, “I’ve never drank before.”

“Me, either,” Zayn admits.

When it’s quiet and everyone’s looking at Niall, he shrugs. “I do sometimes. I like to smoke more.”

“You smoke?”

Niall nods. His stomach makes a gross sound, and then he lifts up his leg to fart.

“I had no clue,” Zayn comments.

“You don’t smell like it,” Harry says. “But it’s really not the greatest for you, so maybe you should--”

“It’s better than alcohol.”

Harry blinks. “I think they’re equally bad.”

“Drinking makes some people go crazy. You don’t hear about people smoking weed and doing what you guys did last night.”

Both Zayn’s and Harry’s eyes get huge. “You meant weed?” Zayn asks.

“What did we do last night?” Harry asks.

Niall finally stands up and rubs his stomach. “Besides throw up everywhere?”

Harry’s face burns.

“You just talked a lot. Wouldn’t shut up, both of you. I think it was the most I’ve ever heard you talk, Zayn. Ever. Then you showed us some pretty nice dance moves with each other. That’s about it.” Suddenly, he starts chuckling, soft at first, then it turns into a full-on laugh.

“What?” Zayn asks, irritated but excited at finding out things he can’t remember.

“So everything was fine for a little bit, we were all just sitting around laughing and stuff, then I got hungry, right? So I downstairs to see what there is to eat, then I come back up with chips, and both of you are in the bathroom puking in the toilet.”

“Eww! At the same time?”

“Aw, naw, Harry, gross. No, you were at the sink,” Niall tells Harry, “and Zayn was throwing up in the toilet.”

Zayn looks at Harry, and Harry mutters, “I cleaned it all, I promise.”

“So where was Kevin? Where did he go?”

Niall looks around before answering Zayn. “When you two got all sick, I told him he should probably just go home.”

“No, like, while we were...sick.”

“He was outside smoking, I think. But he came back in when both of you just left the bathroom,” Niall looks at Harry and says, “and, like, fresh from throwing up, you go into Zayn’s room with him and throw up some more, then you jump up and decide you want to go streaking.”

Harry’s face is even more hot. He looks at Niall, and Niall just shakes his head. “You didn’t. I made sure you went to sleep. Zayn had already passed out, anyway.”

“I don’t wanna drink so much next time,” Zayn says.

Harry scowls. “Are you crazy? I don’t wanna drink ever again.”

 

 **Thirteen and Fifteen**  
**Eighth Grade and Tenth Grade**

Louis’s slouching on the couch, holding his new phone in his hands. He got it as a new back-to-school present, and he likes it because the screen’s bigger and there’s an actual full keyboard when you flip it open, so it’s a lot easier to text. He’s got a few different conversations going with some of his friends, but it’s nothing interesting. The texts from Hannah keep interrupting him each time he’s already in the middle of typing something to Stan or Cal, so he's already annoyed when he looks up from his phone and sees his sister standing in front of him in her cheerleading outfit, looking at him expectantly.

“What do you want?”

“Will you put my hair up?” Lottie repeats.

“Put your hair up?” Louis echoes. He shakes his head. “No...I don’t know how to do that.”

Lottie walks forward and puts an elastic band and a hairbrush in his hand. “Just put it up and tie it. Like--” she pulls all her hair back until it’s bunched together sort of in the middle of the back of her head and then turns around. “Like this.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“Pleeeeease?” she asks. She sits down on the floor in front of Louis and scoots back until her back is touching his shins.

Lottie is the most persistent, stubborn omega Louis has ever met. “Can’t you get Dad to do this?”

“He’s at the supermarket with the twins getting snacks for the squad.”

“Why are you guys cheering this early?”

“Football’s starting up, duh. It’s practice. We have a pep rally at school in just two weeks. The fifth graders get to plan it, and I’m on the planning committee and on the cheerleading squad.”

“Good for you,” Louis mumbles so Lottie can’t hear. “Well, just wait for Dad, then, if it’s just practice. Or just do it yourself.” Louis gives the brush back to his sister and picks up his phone again.

“It’s not gonna look right if I do it myself,” Lottie whines, “and when he gets back he won't have any time. Just brush it up and tie it! It’s not rocket science!”

“Fine,” Louis huffs, rolling his eyes. “Where did you get such a lovely attitude from?”

“Your mom,” she says, giggling.

“Dumbie,” Louis mutters, trying to brush her hair. It’s a lot. “Well, sit still or you’re gonna mess this all up.”

Her head jerks around as Louis attempts to brush it. “Ow!”

“Sit still,” Louis says again.

“Oww! Louis! That hurts!”

“Well,” Louis snaps, “do it yourself.”

“But we're running late, and I can’t do it myself,” Lottie whines.

Again, Louis attempts to tie her hair up, which is hard because he’s still annoyed. His phone keeps buzzing beside him, but he ignores it to pulls all of Lottie’s hair back with his left hand. He uses his right hand to brush it straight and curses under his breath. This is harder than it looks.

Before Louis can even fully tie it back, Lottie pats her hair from all sides. “Dad does it better. It’s not all lumpy when he does it.”

Louis’ hands slap his thighs in frustration, and Lottie's hair drops. “Then get him to do it, Lottie!”

Lottie crosses her arms and doesn’t move. “You’re so mean all the time,” she huffs. “Ever since you got a girlfriend, you’re just a big, fat grouch!”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Louis grumbles. He pulls on her hair to get it all in the back again.

“Uh, yeah, ya do, and you're a jerk. If I was your girlfriend I would break up with you.”

“She’s not my stupid girlfriend,” Louis lies, now brushing Lottie’s hair with more force than necessary.

“Is she just your friends with benefits?”

“What--How do you even know about that?”

Lottie crosses her arms and puts her nose in the air. “I know things. And you've got pictures of you together all over MySpace. You’re lying. She's totally your girlfriend and you've been hiding it.”

“I don't have any pictures of her on anywhere,” Louis says, and that’s the truth. He hates people who put sappy pictures up online. Or all over their rooms. Or in their lockers. They make it seem like they're soo in love and then they end up breaking up the next month. Like Calvin. Louis’s not making this thing with Hannah bigger than it really is. It’s practice, and that’s all it ever will be. “And what are you even doing on MySpace, anyway?”

She ignores him. “Yes, you do have pictures up,” she sings.

“Pretty sure I don't,” Louis sings back.

“Well, she has pictures of you, then. And she says she’s in a relationship.”

“I can't help what she puts on that stupid website,” Louis says, struggling with what to do with his hands as he tries to tie Lottie’s hair again. He’s done some complicated thing with the hairbrush that has his hands all tangled up and, dropping it on the floor, he wishes that he never even met Hannah. Which means he's a dick. “And you’re a weird stalker for looking her up in the first place.”

“Put the bobby pins in now,” Lottie tells him, shoving about six tiny little clips into Louis’ free hand even as he's struggling to untangle his fingers from the mane of hair he's created.

“How --? What? What are these things?”

“They keep my wispies all in place,” Lottie tells him. “Just put them on under the ponytail and on the sides.”

“What the hell are wispies?”

She gasps. “You swore.”

“Lottie--”

“Just do it, Louis! I'm gonna be late!”

“I swear to God--”

“You shouldn't swear to anyone.”

He's gotten Lottie’s hair tied back and in place, and while he still does not know what wispies are, he presses the little metal hook-things in her hair where she directed him to. It’s just then when Fizzy runs into the room and jumps on the couch beside him. She’s in first grade now, and she’s cute. She’s a cute, pleasantly nice omega. Unlike the one in front of Louis.

Louis sighs very loudly.

He thinks maybe if he'd paid more attention to Hannah putting her hair up, he'd understand a little bit more about this stuff. But he doesn't ever really pay that much attention to her. He just doesn't. He zones out when they're together, he tunes out when she talks, and he thinks of someone else when they kiss. It's honestly the worst.

“You're a really bad boyfriend, you know,” Lottie says next, echoing some of Louis’ thoughts.

Louis puts the other little metal things in his mouth while using his fingers to fix the ones he's stuck in all wrong. He speaks between his teeth, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never bring her over, none of us even know who she is, you never do things with her--”

Louis groans. “Drop it, Lots. If our pictures are all over MySpace, then how do I never do things with her, huh?”

“Well,” Lottie humpfs, “you still never bring her over. You used to bring Harry over here all the time.”

“Harry’s...different.” When Fizzy grabs his cell phone, he orders her to put it down. She listens and then starts jumping on the couch, singing to herself. Always singing, that girl.

“Well, where has he been?”

“What do you mean, where’s he been?”

“Why doesn't he come over anymore?”

“Well.” Louis clears his throat. “He just doesn’t.”

“Why not? I miss him.”

Louis finishes Lottie’s hair with a scowl. He freakin’ misses Harry, too, but he can’t do anything about it, can he? “Because. He’s busy. I’m busy, he’s busy. We’re busy.”

“But you still have time to see your girlfriend?”

“Lottie!” Louis’s yelling now. “Just be quiet and worry about normal ten-year-old stuff, would you? Like minding your own business and staying off the freakin’ internet.”

Lottie pats her hair once Louis’s done with sticking those little sticks in it. “I know I’m only ten, but I’m way more mature than you are.”

“Doubt that.”

“And when you shout, it just makes you sound stupid.”

“Good.”

Lottie stands up. “I am more mature than you, you know. Omegas always mature quicker than Alphas. That's what my teachers say. That’s probably why Harry--”

“Lottie, stop it with Harry.”

She frowns when Louis flashes his eyes at her. “Did you two get in a fight?”

“No.”

“Then--then why--?”

“Because,” Louis says in aggravation, standing up, too. At the very last minute, he puts his arms out because Fizzy’s catapulted herself off the couch.

“Ooffph!” Louis puts her back on the carpet. “You’re getting too big for that. Gonna break my back, Fiz.”

“How can you not miss him?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t miss him!” Louis screams. “Now just shut up. I'm serious.”

She crosses her arms. “Fine.”

Louis picks up his phone, huffs when he sees all the texts in a row from Hannah, and walks upstairs to his bedroom. He thinks he’s gonna just take a nap and forget the world. As he’s about halfway upstairs, Lottie must’ve just looked in the mirror.

“Oh, my God, Louis! It looks awful!”

Louis slams his door shut.

Lottie’s turned into a little know-it-all brat lately. “How can you not miss him?” she’d asked. That’s ridiculous. Louis misses Harry, too. Of course Louis misses him. He hasn’t forgotten about him.

He--he freakin’ likes Harry. God, does he like Harry. Like, more than he can handle, actually.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s ridiculous that even after going this long without any physical contact--well, any contact at all--Harry can still affect Louis, can still get so inside his head that he can’t even deal with it sometimes. It's the biggest crush he's ever had, and distance hasn’t made it any weaker.

Even though he still has bad dreams more often than not, some of his dreams are pleasant. Too pleasant. And then in some of his nicer daydreams, he feels like floating on air or something. His friends have already caught him zoning out in class three times now with a dopey look on his face, and they’ve had to shake his arm until he remembers where he’s actually at. It’s nuts.

Being with Hannah doesn’t help at all anymore, not even a little. Sliding lips with her is a chore so she’ll stop talking. Touching her is robotic--normally just an arm around the shoulder, but it makes him feel like he’s claiming someone he doesn’t care about. He doesn’t even like the hand-holding thing. And when she touches him, it’s just weird. It makes his body feel good sometimes but not at all like Calvin says it’s felt like for him. It’s definitely not the same at all as being alone in his bedroom and bringing the hoodie he stole from Harry up to his nose. Breathing in what little bits of Harry’s scent he can still manage to sniff out makes him feel better than anything these days.

Since he’s in bed already, he rolls over, pulls the hoodie out from under an unused pillow, and brings it up to his nose. So. That’s where he’s at now. He’s gotten to that point. He officially prefers the smell of an article of clothing from Harry to the touch of an actual omega.

It’s another omega, though. It’s an omega who isn’t Harry.

Harry’s doing fine without Louis, though. From the smiling pictures of him that Louis sees Harry’s friends put up online, he’s doing well. He’s got himself a loyal set of people to hang out with, it looks like, and they apparently chill together a lot and even play instruments together. They do other silly-looking things like dress up in funny clothes--all except for Zayn--and take pictures of one another and stuff, and Louis notices all the photos look like they’re taken in Harry’s bedroom. The bedroom that he’s forbidden to enter until Harry’s seventeen.

Louis’s not jealous. He's not. He’s happy. It would kill him if he knew that Harry was out there as upset on the inside as he is about what’s happened. Since, you know, according to his friends, he's apparently gotten all weirdly emotional now and shit.

Louis can totally talk Des into letting Harry court in ninth grade. Seventeen is just too long to wait. By then, Louis will be in eleventh grade. By then, he’ll have gotten enough practice in with Hannah to be worthy of being Harry’s Alpha. By then, Harry’s dad will hopefully be able to sort of forget about the fact that he hates him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
The first day of school. Eighth grade, the year everyone grows taller and bigger and wider, but no one’s faces or voices have really caught up yet.

It’s an exciting day.

After getting off the bus, Harry walks into the cafeteria and sits at the same circular table he and his friends have always occupied during the mornings since sixth grade, and he spends his alone-time eating a banana and getting all his school supplies in order. When he sees a hand pushing a miniature carton of apple juice along the table until it’s right in front of his binder, he looks up and smiles when he recognizes who it is.

“Hey, Niall.”

Harry hasn’t seen Niall since Zayn’s sleepover last week. If he thinks hard enough about it, he can still remember exactly how bad he felt that morning when he woke up, and to be honest, maybe he’s never recovered. He stops thinking about it because it’s making him feel nauseous.

Niall puts down his tray of pancakes and bacon and takes the seat in front of Harry. He’s wearing an old, holey t-shirt of some band that Harry doesn’t recognize, and his hair still hasn’t been cut. He looks very laid-back and carefree.

Harry sees a hoard of people enter the cafeteria all at once, and he recognizes some of the faces as people who ride Zayn’s bus. It doesn’t take long for Harry to spot Zayn walking in alone towards the back of the crowd. He’s always like his space.

If Niall’s going for the just-got-out-of-bed look, Zayn’s the complete opposite. _Stylish_ is the word that comes to mind when Harry glances at his omega friend, noticing the new shoes and name-brand clothing he’s wearing. He’s started doing complicated things to his hair with gel, and his eyes look like they’re constantly searching your soul for secrets. No wonder he always takes good pictures. His face stays in a permanent pose.

Harry looks down at his lap. He has on his favorite pair of jeans that, while not ugly, certainly aren’t fresh from the store. At least his binder is new. His mom knows how much he likes office supplies, so he got to ditch his old, tattered one for a brand-new blue one with all types of pockets in the front. He’s really excited about it. He’s been making sure he has enough paper in between each divider when Zayn joins the little table he and Niall are already occupying, and Harry’s happy for the company.

“Let’s look at our schedules,” Harry suggests after Zayn sits down. Harry’s schedule is already placed in a secure binder pouch, and he pulls it out.

Zayn reaches in his backpack for a paper at the bottom there while Niall pulls a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. They all compare.

“This has never happened,” Harry says brightly after looking at all three papers. He brings the apple juice Niall gave him up to his lips, and it runs down his chin because he can’t stop smiling. “We have more than two classes together,” Harry enthuses. “All of us!”

Zayn touches his forehead like he can feel a stray bit of hair there before smiling along with Niall and Harry. “Sick.”

“This is awesome,” NIall says, opening up his little plastic pouch of utensils. “This is gonna be such a good year, man. We’re eighth graders. We rule the school.”

“Woo,” Zayn says unenthusiastically.

“Don’t be a drag, man,” Niall tells Zayn. “We’re the oldest in the school. That won’t happen again for a long time. We’re gonna get all the special treatment, go to all the dances--” Niall stops talking suddenly, and he snaps his fingers.

Harry and Zayn both pause and look at Niall. “What?” they ask together.

Niall points to Harry. “I’m gonna get you a date for the Fall Ball this year.”

“The what?”

“The Fall Ball,” Niall repeats. “I’m gonna find someone to go with you. We’ve got four weeks to work with, and I bet I can get someone today, even. I can totally make it happen.”

“Oh, no, Niall, please d--”

“Harry,” Niall groans. “You shouldn’t sit at home for the third year in a row when there’s plenty of takers. I’ll get someone you like. Of course, you could just go along like everyone else does, but since you’re always so picky...Challenge accepted.”

“No, seriously. There is no challenge.” Harry shakes his head. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Why not? You don’t gotta be afraid of Alphas,” Niall says. “I know a bunch of cool guys--” He stops to raise his eyebrows and clarifies, “Guys?”

“Yeah,” Harry mutters. “But look, I’m serious--my dad--”

“Guys,” Niall says after Harry. He goes on, “I know a bunch of guys who’d wanna take you.”

Harry pauses. “Like who?”

“Like...Aiden Halloway.”

“Gross!”

“He uses ProActiv now,” Niall offers.

“He needs ProActiv for his soul.”

“There’s Brody, then there’s Jake. There’s Aiden, you already said you don’t want him, there’s Will...Joe...Joseph. Joey, he’s nice. Hogan. Ryan...and that other Will, the one with the brown hair.”

“Are you trying to get me to date an entire suburban soccer team or something?

Zayn’s shoulders shake with held-in laughter, and Harry pushes his arm.

“You wanna go for the basketball team instead?”

“Niall, shut up,” Harry says, but he’s laughing along with Zayn, too.

Harry’s friend Will joins the table then, and Harry greets him happily. They all look at their schedules again, and Harry’s pleased to find that he has lots of classes with Will this year, too. This year might not turn out so bad after all.

It doesn’t take long for Niall to pick back up where he left off. “What about Nate? He kinda looks like Zayn, so maybe it’d be weird going with him, but he’s alright--”

Harry’s mouth is a straight line. “No way.”

Apparently he’s adamant enough that it shocks Niall. “What’s wrong with Nate?”

“A lot.”

“He tried to mate with me while I was in heat at the end of the school year,” Zayn quietly answers Niall’s confused look. Niall and Will both gasp. “So...yeah.”

Niall’s face falls. “No way,” he says, this time in a much different tone than he was using before. “What the fuck, man.”

“Yeah, Harry actually fought him off,” Zayn explains, trying to chuckle and make light of the story, but he can’t. Harry just shrugs when everyone looks at him.

“Wait.” Niall puts his fork down. “At the end of the school year? The--the face?” Niall makes a gesture like clawing. “That was you?”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Harry admits. “He wouldn’t go away.”

“Damn, Harry,” Niall says, impressed. “Did I ever tell you that he got caught this summer fucking his couch?”

“No, he didn’t,” Harry gasps.

Niall can barely talk ‘cause he’s laughing so hard. “My friend invited him over to a party one night and caught him at, like, midnight, butt-naked, like, laying on the couch with his dick between the cushions, goin’ to town.”

While Zayn and Will burst out in laughter, Harry’s face is red. He sticks his fingers in his ears. “I do not need to hear anything else.”

Niall finally calms down. “I just didn’t wanna say anything about it...but yeah, yeah. Definitely not him. Let’s stay away from him.”

“Well, thanks for knowing all that and still offering to get him to take me to the dance, jerk,” Harry says, not serious. He puts his hand on Zayn’s leg. Even though Zayn’s smiling, he thinks if it were him, he’d probably feel a little weird about it. Gross.

“Point is, Harry,” Niall continues, mouth full of pancakes, “you’re cute. And I know for a fact you can dance. You can find someone to take you so easy, but you never even wanna go, dude.”

“Aww, you’re such a little cutie, Harry,” Zayn gushes.

Niall laughs. “You are, though! Not like that--I mean, I like girls. But, Harry, you’re smart. You gotta know Alphas look at you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re creepy.”

“‘Cause they want you,” Niall corrects. “There’s just something keeping them away, I guess. My brother Greg says omegas are smarter than Alphas. That scares ‘em ‘cause the Alphas know they have to work harder and stuff ‘cause they’re not used to feeling ‘intellectually inferior’ is what he says.”

While Harry’s looking at Niall like he’s impressed by his vocabulary, Zayn offers jokingly, “They’re just afraid you’ll break out the old one-two punch, H.”

“The old claw move,” Will adds on, scratching air while hissing.

Harry gives his friends a stoic look before turning back to Niall. “Niall, thank you and all, but I can’t go. My dad won’t let me go if I go with an Alpha.”

“So lie.”

“He’ll find out.”

“How? How’s he gonna find out? He’s just a Beta. He won’t be able to smell it or nothin’!”

“He’ll probably know one of the chaperones there or something, and if it gets back to him that I went to the dance with an Alpha, I’ll get in trouble first for lying and second for going with an Alpha.”

“That’s so whack, dude. Just go along, then.”

Harry exaggeratedly sighs. “Good gosh, Niall! I’ll go! Jeez!”

The morning bell rings, signaling the official start of their first day of school. They all make their way to their same homeroom class, and Niall whispers in Zayn’s ear on the way there that he doesn’t have to worry about any other Alphas since he can escort him places. Harry smirks.

The day goes by as much first days do--lots of introductions, games that Harry dreads where he has to stand up and say stuff that he did over the summer, lots of papers to bring home to get signed. Once the week goes by and he gets in the swing of things, it’s a lot easier. It’s always been a lot easier for him to know what to expect when going to class. He likes the boringness of it.

Harry, Niall, and Zayn all have the same Algebra II class with a teacher so young she may have just gotten out of college herself. Her lessons are short, and she ends each class by letting everyone get a head-start on their homework assignments.

Harry’s in the back with Niall and Zayn when he sees a guy mutter to himself while trying to work out a problem. He's all by himself. It’s the second week of school, and the guy hasn’t seemed to talk to anybody else in the clas, but it’s probably ‘cause no one’s seemed to talk to him.

“Niall,” Harry whispers. Niall looks up from his paper. He’s flipped to the back of the textbook and is copying the answers to the problems without working any of them out. “Invite that guy over here.”

“What guy?”

“That Alpha with the collared shirt all by himself right there.”

“Did you want me to ask him about the Fall Ball for you?”

“No,” Harry hisses. “He just looks lonely.”

Niall shrugs. “Hey!” he calls out. No response. “Hey!” he tries again. “What’s up, man?” he asks once the Alpha finally lifts his head. Niall beckons him forward with his hand. “Come sit with us.”

The Alpha looks around for a split second before realizing he’s the one Niall’s speaking to, and he immediately grabs his notebook and textbook and walks over to the table Harry, Niall, and Zayn are at in the back.

“Hey,” Niall greets. Zayn and Harry just wave. The Alpha is tall, skinny, and has hair that sort of reminds Harry of Niall’s. It’s not blond and it’s not very shaggy, but it’s long, like a nest of brown stuff. Harry hasn’t cut his hair in a long time either. He wonders if his own hair looks like that. Maybe he should make it look like that because it doesn’t look so bad.

“Hey,” the Alpha says, sitting down. He takes a chair and sits on it backwards, his legs spread wide on either side of the chair-back.

“Niall,” Niall just says. “What’s your name?”

“Liam,” he introduces himself. “Liam Payne. Nice to meet y’all.”

For a good five seconds, Niall literally pauses. Then he smiles in huge interest. “Where are you from?”

The guy smiles, and Harry notices he’s got little crinkles by his eyes just like Louis does. “A little tiny place no one ever knows if I tell ‘em, but it’s outside of Birmingham.”

“Where’s that?”

“Oh.” The Alpha named Liam’s face falls. “Uh, Alabama?”

“Oooh,” everyone says at once, looking at one another. That explains the accent.

“When’d you move here?”

“Prob’ly, like, three weeks ago, I’d say. Not been here that long.”

“Cool.”

Harry stares at Niall’s notebook. There’s hardly anything there, and what he’s already written, he’s just copied. Harry rolls his eyes and tries to work on the next problem.

“Y’all all from here or…?”

Niall’s already in a conversation with a person at the table behind him, and Zayn apparently isn’t talking. Harry waits a good amount of time for Niall to turn around answer, but when the silence has gone on so long it might be rude, he just starts talking himself.

“Zayn’s from right here in D.C., I’m from Pennsylvania but I’ve lived here forever, and Niall’s from California,” Harry answers. He’s proud of himself for being so confident in front of an Alpha. But that’s him. Fearless Harry. His new persona.

Niall whips back around and goes right back to talking to Liam. “What do you think of it here?”

“Well, everything’s different up here, that’s for sure,” Liam says politely. “It’s sort of a shock.”

Harry’s curious. “Different how?”

“Just--everybody’s in a rush all the time. Y’all don’t ever seem to, like, slow down. It’s sort of crazy.”

“Guess it is a lot busier,” Harry comments. “D.C. is a really big city. Have you been there yet?”

Liam nods. “Well, not ever before, no, but my mom took us there this weekend. My sister and me.”

“Cool,” Harry replies. “My dad works there. We go sometimes. And for baseball games or sometimes hockey and stuff. There’s always a whole bunch going on.”

“That’s cool. You play baseball?”

“No,” Harry answers. “I mean, for fun maybe, but not for the school or anything. I’m not very good.”

Niall shakes his head. “You are, too,” he states. “You’re just not that competitive.”

“Yeah, omegas normally aren’t,” Liam remarks. “Me, I play football,” he goes on, not being asked. “I was quarterback down in my hometown, so I’m gonna play on the team here, too.”

Zayn and Harry are quiet. Harry doesn’t know what else to contribute to the conversation, and Zayn can’t stop staring at Liam. He’s being ridiculously obvious about it. Harry smirks.

“You were quarterback?” Niall asks.

“I’m stronger than I look,” Liam mumbles.

Niall holds up a hand. “Just asking.”

Their conversation goes on for a bit, and Harry doesn’t get much more work done. He’ll have to do it at home. He does learn that Liam’s parents broke their bond and that’s why his mom moved here, his sister’s name is Ruth, he’s about to get a puppy, and his favorite football team is the Dolphins. Harry tries to impress him by talking about the Packers, but he doesn’t know enough about football to keep the conversation going. Niall talks for a long time, though.

When the bell rings, Harry stalls until everyone else has packed up and left the classroom. When it’s just him and Zayn, they walk out into the hallway together, and Zayn’s quiet like he’s waiting for Harry to say something.

Harry does.

“Oh, my God, Zayn, you couldn’t stop staring at him,” Harry gushes. “You totally want to mate with him and have his babies and--”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, what would they look like? I bet they’d be adorable,” Harry gushes. “What are you gonna name them?”

“Harry. Shut. Up.”

When they go into their different classes, Harry sees Zayn blush (which he never does) and smile a little bit (which, at school, he rarely does). Harry grins largely, finding that he’s genuinely excited for Zayn. He’s never seen Zayn show any interest in anybody ever, so this is a big deal. Maybe it’ll be a happy ending. Somebody deserves one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underaged drinking happens. It's unfortunate yet realistic. :/


	10. stop the tape and rewind

**Thirteen and Fifteen**  
**Eighth/Tenth Grade**

  
After fourth period, Louis always makes a stop at his locker to switch out his books. He’s figured out that he doesn’t have time to go to his locker after any of his other afternoon classes, so when his theater class is finished, he has to put his books for Geometry, Spanish, and World History all in his backpack at once and lug them around for the rest of the day. It’s annoying, but he doesn’t mind; it’s become a convenient time to visit his locker because he’s learned that it’s exactly when Gemma cuts through the same hall on her way to the cafeteria. Which is a very, very good thing.

  
In his free hand Louis’s holding the three woven bracelets he bought in a shop in the city last weekend. When he zips up his bookbag again, he touches the braids of the bracelets and the outward fringe of the strings hanging from where they’re tied off at the end, and he smiles. They’re earth-toned but still sort of colorful, and when he saw them, he immediately bought them without thinking.

  
“Gemma!” he calls out above the noise of the other people bustling around in the hallway. He raises a hand in greeting, and as she walks over to him, she carries a look of fondness and annoyance that sort of reminds Louis of the way he himself must look when seeing his siblings. Thankfully he'll never go to the same school with any of them.

  
“Hey, got something for you,” Louis tells Gemma in quick greeting, putting the bracelets in her hand.

  
She looks down at her own palm and, from the rise and fall of her chest, appears to sigh. “Look, what do you keep giving me all these things for all the time?”

  
“For Harry.” Duh. “You're giving the stuff to him, aren't you?”

  
Gemma stares at him. “You know that Christmas isn’t for three more months, and his birthday’s even farther away. It’s a little mu--”

  
“I just see things and if I think he’ll like ‘em, I want him to have ‘em,” he explains easily. She’s an Alpha, so she should get it. After he shrugs and unsuccessfully tries to figure out the curious look on her face, he snaps his fingers. “So hey, do you think if I wrote something--”

  
“Look, Louis,” Gemma interrupts. “It’s nice of you, but don’t you think it’s a little--”

  
And it's then that three of Gemma's friends join her right at the same time Louis sees Hannah walking towards him by herself, and since Gemma’s friends are intimidating and probably hungry and since Hannah will immediately need all of his attention anyway, Louis shuts up and tucks away his question for Gemma for another day.

  
He and Gemma give each other a small wave, and Louis frowns once she’s gone. As he leans back onto his closed locker, staring at the sudden cliques of people walking by to their classes, he smells Hannah close beside him.

  
“What were you talking to them about?” she asks.

  
If he could write something--anything--and get Gemma to give it to Harry, then he could be reassured that his messages were actually getting to him. He knows writing notes isn't something Alphas usually so, but something's gotta give. Everything online has failed, and it’s getting a little ridiculous. It’s been a year now. A year. Who doesn’t get online for an entire year?

  
Someone whose father is the world’s biggest dick, that’s who.

  
“Louis!”

  
Louis lazily turns his eyes to Hannah. “Huh?”

  
“Those Alphas. What were you talking about?”

  
Louis’s actually not all that confident that a note would even be the best route to take to get in touch with Harry again, but what other options does he really have? If Des reads it, he reads it. Louis’ll just have to be careful not to put anything incriminating towards _Harry_ in there, so if it does end up confiscated, at least it’ll just look like Louis’s the one in the wrong. The next time he sees Gemma, he’ll have to make sure he gives it to her. If he can ever figure out what the hell he’s gonna write. He'll probably have time in Spanish class to do it.

  
“Louis! Why were you talking to Gemma Styles?”

  
“Because I know her, Hannah,” Louis answers with a bite he doesn’t expect. The next thing he knows, her hand is hooked around his waist, and she’s looking at him expectantly. He slowly raises his eyebrows and does not lean forward to kiss her.

  
“Homecoming’s in two weeks, you know,” she says softly. “You need to wear something that’ll match my dress. Did you buy something yet?”

  
Louis softly bangs his head backward into his locker. He talks to the ceiling, “I will.”

  
“What color did I say it was?”

  
He closes his eyes. “Pink?”

  
She kisses his cheek, and hopefully it’s not noticeable to her when he backs away from it.

 

* * *

  
Harry's in the kitchen waiting on his ride to the first birthday party he's been invited to since school started up, but his spirits aren’t as high as he’d like. Since morning, his stomach’s been aching with nerves and residual heat, and as he washes down two small pills with the help of some water his mom’s poured for him, he scrunches up his brows and holds the present he's just finished wrapping for his friend Jason closer to him. Something under his skin itches, and he can’t seem to get cheery.

  
Jason, whose birthday is actually tomorrow, is more of Will's friend than Harry's. Harry's _friendly_ with him, of course, but it's not like they'd ever hang out alone outside of school or anything. Which is fine. They get along really well either way. Will introduced Harry to Jason last year, and now they sit next to each other in the classes they have together. This year it's Home Ec. They’ve already figured out how to stitch patches on clothing and how to make hand puppets, but Harry likes it best when they cook together.

  
Jason’s a super nice guy. The only thing is--he’s basically like the omega-equivalent of Niall. He knows _everybody_. And whether his friends are actual friend-friends like Will or acquaintance-friends like Harry, Harry’s sure that tons of people will be at the party today because Jason’s so popular. Alphas, Betas, and omegas will probably all be there.

  
“Are you sure you still want to go?” his mom asks after Harry’s zoned out for too long. She gives him her best Worried-Mom look.

  
Harry shakes his head quickly. After being stuck in his own room for five days with heat, he'd do anything to get some fresh air and socialize. Normally, his heats don't last that long, but this one stretched out so miserably he had to miss the whole week of school, taking two extra days just to recover and sleep.

  
So yes, of course he’s sure he still wants to go. He definitely knows he's in the clear from his heat, and even the fact that he has cramps and can't swim in the pool today doesn't really bother him. That part he’s not worried about.

  
It's that Niall's going to be there. Because Niall knows everybody and is invited to everything. And Niall's been trying to play matchmaker for Harry for weeks and weeks now because next week is the Fall Ball and Harry doesn't have an official date yet. And if Jason’s friends with practically everyone in their grade, Alphas will most definitely be at this party.

  
Harry already knows what Niall’s probably going to try to do. He’s been worrying about it and thinking up ways to avoid him today because he honestly doesn’t think he has the energy to deal with it today.

  
There's a beep from outside, and Harry sets down his glass of water and is unnecessarily sprayed with a thick amount of neutralizer before he slowly walks outside. He’s welcomed by warm and clean air on his face. It’s October, but it's still the perfect day for a pool party. It's been hot lately.

  
Down at the car, Harry’s pleasantly surprised to see Will sitting in the backseat of the car behind his mom and not in the passenger seat, and as he steps inside and buckles up, he greets him happily. Or as happily as he can. While Harry's wearing loose but okay-looking clothes, Will has on swim shorts and a nice yellow shirt. Harry can tell he’s really excited.

  
Will speaks to Harry nonstop for the next few minutes, talking about all types of random stuff that eventually leads into what presents they’d gotten for Jason. While Will just got him a card and a gift certificate to the movie theater, Harry saved up his allowance and bought him a junior baking set with cupcake pans and stuff in it since he knows that Jason likes to cook. At least in Home Ec, he does, anyway. He’s good at it.

  
When Harry feels the car slow down a little, he realizes he’s been paying no attention at all to where Will’s mom’s been driving. He’s never been to Jason’s house, and as he shakes the fuzz from his head and blinks a few times in a row, he looks out the window and notices a long brick wall with bushes and flowers in front of it. In the middle, the wall sort of curves into a big, black wrought-iron gate, and all of it is so familiar that Harry feels chills run up his back. As Will’s mom turns into the little driveway in front of the gate, Harry reads the cursive brass letters covering the bricks on the right side, and he sits up straighter with wide eyes, finally drawing Will’s attention.

  
Will turns his head quickly to Harry as the car fully stops in front of the gate. “We're in Steeplechase Estates,” he whispers enthusiastically.

  
Harry knows where they are. They're in the rich people’s neighborhood in the hills. They're where Louis lives.

  
Harry knows all the streets to take to get to Louis’ house from where they are now. He could walk there without thinking. If he went straight, he’d go far enough to pass a ridiculously long golf-course on the left, then he’d take a few turns after seeing the swimming club on the right, then after he’d pass the horses, it’s over the hill and then thirteen more houses. Walking would take quite a while, but on his bike he’s made it there from his house in about twenty minutes. From where they are now, he’d say it’d take maybe five.

  
Keeping his thumbnail in his mouth, Harry nods belatedly at Will. “I didn’t know Jason lived so close to me? I thought he was way on the other side of the school.”

  
“He is. He’s having the party at his cousin’s house ‘cause they actually have a pool. Didn't know it'd be here, did ya? Awesome, right?”

  
Harry doesn’t know if awesome is the right word to use, but he nods again. Every bit of skin from his head to his toes--and especially in his fingertips and palms--is tingly just by being in this neighborhood.

  
“Look, they even had to give Mom a code to get inside,” Will tells Harry, watching his mother currently struggling with getting the numbers correct. She keeps muttering under her breath after the little electronic box beeps at her.

  
“Will, grab my purse from back there, please. I forgot they wrote the code on the invitation.”

  
“It's two-eight-three-three-one,” Harry speaks up. They both look at him, and he blushes. “I know somebody who lives here, but it was a long time ago, so it might not be right, but...”

  
She tries it anyway, and the gates open. If she and Will are surprised, they don’t say anything. His mom just tells him thanks and slowly accelerates again.

  
Harry doesn’t look outside. Can’t. When the car finally comes to a stop again, he finally looks up, and his voice is as squeaky as the brakes of the car when he sees a vast and deep-green lawn before a huge, grey-stone house with an American flag hanging from the front. He jerks his head to Will.

  
“This--this is where Jason’s cousin lives?”

  
“Yeah,” Will answers, unbuckling his seatbelt and gloating a bit like maybe he’s impressed Harry.

  
After Harry steps out of the car with the package for Jason in his grip, he stands on the asphalt and just blinks. He’s been here before, but he doesn't know when. He knows this house. It's big and long and tall and--beautiful. Harry doesn't see a last name written on the mailbox.

  
Harry waits for Will to say goodbye to his mother, then the two of them both just stand by the mailbox at the end of a long driveway looking stupid as she drives away.

  
“And, um...what's Jason’s cousin’s name?”

  
“Calvin.” Will looks to his shoes. “Calvin Rodgers,” he answers, and Harry momentarily can’t speak. “He’s a sophomore.”

  
“I know who Calvin Rodgers is,” Harry replies quietly. Everything he’s just found out kind of makes his stomach hurt.

  
Will seems weirdly interested. “Really? How do you know Calvin Rodgers?”

  
“Um. Our parents used to go to the same dinners and stuff when I was little.”

  
Will’s eyes get large. “You’ve known him since you were little?”

  
Harry just nods.

  
“Wow! So he knows you, too, then! That's so cool. And you were worried you wouldn’t know people here. Even though, like, everyone from school is coming. I always say you worry too much, Harry.”

  
Harry just holds Jason’s birthday present closer to him. “Yeah. Do you know if Haydn or Zayn are coming? Or Nick?”

  
“Nick’s with his family at the pumpkin patch, Haydn’s in heat still, and I think Zayn said he had something else to do and wasn’t coming.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“But we’ll find out soon! C’mon,” Will says brightly. He’s so excited that his voice cracks. He quickly starts walking. “They have food and music in the back. And I hear the pool is freakin’ huge.”

  
It is. Harry’s been in it once or twice when he was younger--back when Louis spent a lot of time trying to include Harry in on the things that he did with Calvin and Calvin’s cousin Oli. Back when Louis actually included Harry in anything at all. Harry was never introduced to Jason back then. He never even know that Calvin had another cousin other than Oli.

  
He wonders if they’ll be here today. Well, Calvin will, obviously because it’s his house, but he wonders if...he wonders who else will be coming.

  
“Come on, H. He said to just walk in the back when we get here.”

  
Harry realizes he's stopped walking. He quickly smiles at Will and follows him, both of their strong, differing emotions evaporating off their skins in the hot sun as they walk forever and ever into the backyard.

  
When the music is loud and Harry and Will are finally to the side of the house looking into the back, there are so many people everywhere it's hard to tell if Louis is there or not. Harry reckons he has to be, though. He's always been really close to Calvin and Calvin's family, and if a party's going on in literally the same neighborhood that he himself lives, it would only make sense for Louis to come, too.

  
When Harry does inevitably see Louis only a few moments later, his heart lurches, and he literally stands still and stares. He tries not to stare, but he does anyway. His lips separate, and he can’t do anything but watch what he's doing.

  
Louis’s standing by the side of the pool, and he’s just gotten out of it. He’s dripping water and doesn’t have a shirt on, and his skin is dark and he has _muscles_ and he's smiling and talking to people, and Harry can’t help but gawk. Louis’ eyes are crinkly and happy, and he has muscles. Real muscles.

  
He hasn't seen Louis in person in entirely too long, and because Louis’s been the one who’s completely dropped Harry as a friend for the past year, the first instinct Harry has shouldn't be to smile, walk directly to him, and hold out his arms for a hug, but it is.

  
When he's about halfway to the pool, watching Louis shake his hair like a dog and chat animatedly to Oli and Stan, Harry realizes what he's actually doing and stops. Face red, he turns away so he's not caught and begins walking to a table off to the side of the yard where he sees Jason’s presents. He places his package down and stands there, looking around with a hurt heart for someone he knows since he's already lost Will.

  
He immediately finds Niall. Or, Niall finds him.

  
“Harry, you’re finally here. Dude, I’ve been eating these chips for, like, twenty minutes,” Niall says really, really fast with his mouth full. He takes Harry’s arm and pulls him to a nearby table filled with all types of cook-out food like burgers and hot dogs and chips and dip and fruit. Niall points to three blue bags of chips. “They’re organic!”

  
“Oh,” Harry says, staring at some of the ugliest chips he’s ever seen. Niall looks so excited. Harry doesn’t get it.

  
“Try some,” Niall urges.

  
Harry does. They’re okay.

  
After turning Harry around to face the yard of people again, Niall steps in close to Harry and speaks out of the side of his mouth. “I’ve been scoping out the scene if you still want a date to the--”

  
“No, Niall. It’s really okay.”

  
“Just sayin’, I talked to someone earlier that I really think you might like if you--”

  
“I already told you, I’ll go with you guys next week, but I just wanna go alone. Like, with you guys, but alone, you know?”

  
“Zayn’s goin’ with Liam, you know.”

  
“ _Liam Payne_?” When Niall nods, Harry fish-mouths. “When did this happen?”

  
“You missed a lot this week.”

  
Harry just mumbles, “Clearly.”

  
“Zayn’s been helping Liam in math so much lately that I guess it was bound to happen. Don't know how he asked him or anything, though. I'm not as tight with him as you are.”

  
Harry desperately tries to smile. He's happy for Zayn. He's happy.

  
“Soo…” Niall puts his arm around Harry's shoulder. “I talked to this guy by the pool earlier, don't even know if he's even in our grade, but--”

  
Harry shakes Niall's arm off. “No.”

  
“Suit yourself,” Niall concedes with a shrug. He turns back around to the table of chips and gestures to all the other tables of food that have been lined up to form the look of one giant banquet table.

  
“Are these people related to the president or something?” Niall asks, looking around. “This house has, like, four stories. My dad works for the government--who’s he need to talk to?”

  
“It's two stories but looks big ‘cause you can see the basement from the back,” Harry mutters, shrugging. “They’re just ridiculously rich.”

  
“Must be nice, huh?” Niall asks, sticking his hand in the same bag of chips. He picks up the entire bag and points to the house with his thumb. “You know ‘em well or something?”

  
“Um. Not really.” He leaves it at that.

  
Walking around, Harry and Niall look at all the other people standing around in little groups talking, and Niall calls out to people whenever he’s waved at. When Niall sees one of his Alpha friends from school, Harry quickly walks back to the food before he has to be pulled into that conversation.

  
Eventually, Harry ends up hanging out on a lawn chair at the back of the house, eating chips next to the grill Calvin’s dad’s glued to. Harry’s always thought older people have better conversations, and Calvin’s dad actually remembers Harry from many years ago, so that’s cool. He keeps talking about the college football rankings right now which Harry doesn't keep up with, but he knows enough about sports to not sound dumb when talking.

  
Some of Harry's friends from choir sit with him from time-to-time, and some random Alphas that Harry sort of knows but really just suspects Niall’s sent sit around and talk to him, also, but for the most part, Harry just sips soda next to Calvin’s dad and sings along to the radio under his breath. He would actually be having a really good time if it weren’t for his mind constantly fretting over Louis.

  
The entire afternoon Harry stays stuck between wanting Louis to talk to him and wanting Louis to not even notice he’s there, and he can’t explain why he feels that way. He tries not to look at Louis for the rest of the afternoon because he knows himself. He knows if he sees that girl with him he'll get upset. And he knows that girl has to be here.

  
After Jason opens his presents and cake is served, Harry eventually ends up losing sight of Louis altogether because it’s then that the games start, and everyone disperses into more of the yard space, not just packed up by the house.

  
Omegas begin a game of croquet in the front yard, some people Harry knows from the basketball team find water blasters and start an energetic game of hide-and-seek, and over by the pool, there’s a line of people in bathing suits waiting their turn in a cannonball contest. Harry cheers on Niall before one of his friends from Home Ec sees him, and she catches him and Jason up on the latest drama going on with her ex while they all dip their feet in the pool.

  
“So did he end up going with you or did he take that other omega?” Jason asks the girl, Jemiya.

  
Harry doesn’t really get what they’re talking about since he's been out of the loop from missing an entire week of school, but he listens, anyway.

  
“He took her,” Jemiya says, rolling her eyes.

  
Jason looks sympathetic. “That's wrong. You're so much better than she is.”

  
“I know, right?” she says. “And then when I told him I know he went with her because Ryan saw them and then he told his boyfriend who then told his sister who then told me, he was like, ‘No, I didn't,’ so then I was like, “Uh, yeah you did, Michelle said Matt said that Ryan saw you, and it was crazy. He's such a liar. I can’t believe he did that.”

  
Harry’s genuinely confused. She’s clearly had a lot of cake and soda today. “That’s crazy.”

  
“Isn’t it, though? What do you think I should do? He keeps texting me asking me out tonight.”

  
“Um,” he starts. “Well, don't you think you deserve someone who maybe treats you better?”

  
“He treats me fine. It's that bitch he keeps talking to who I can't stand.”

  
Harry’s confusion increases, and it must be all over his face because Jason laughs at him so Jemiya can’t hear. They share a funny look, but their inside joke is broken when Harry hears Jason’s name being called from a distance.

  
It’s Calvin, and he’s jogging to the pool. There’s a soccer ball in his hands that he lifts up a bit. “Jason, we've been waiting on you.”

  
Jason jumps up. “Oops, gotta go, guys! Have fun!”

  
“Wait a second,” Calvin tells Jason. “We’re short a player. You in, Harry?”

  
Harry looks beyond Calvin and Jason to a big group of people standing around at the end of the yard waiting to play. “Um.”

  
“I don’t know if he really feels like it,” Jemiya speaks for him. “He’s just had a heat, can’t you tell?”

  
Calvin looks uncomfortable. Harry looks even worse. His mouth drops, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, with his face burning hotter than the sun, he mumbles to Calvin, “I’m fine. I can do it. If you need me to.”

  
“Whoa, your voice got deep,” Calvin can’t stop himself from saying. Then he averts his eyes. “Uhh...Are you…? You don’t have to. I’ll just go find--”

  
“It’s okay. I can play.” He stands up.

  
“You sure? ‘Cause I want you on my team, dude, but...uhh…I mean…”

  
“I'm fine,” Harry repeats, meeting Calvin's eyes.

  
“Okay, then,” Calvin chuckles. “You were really good last time we played, is the reason I asked.”

  
Harry smiles at the compliment. “You remember that?”

  
“Yeah, ‘course,” he says breathlessly. They're quickly walking to the big area of grass towards the back of the yard. “So, your friend, Will--”

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Where’s he at?”

  
Harry looks around. “I dunno, want me to get him, too?”

  
“Nah, I was just asking,” Calvin says easily.

  
Will is probably a better soccer player than Harry, so he’s sort of happy that Calvin chose him to play. When he reaches the makeshift field, though, his face falls. There's a hoard of Alphas staring at them, and Louis’s in front.

  
In the exact same fashion Harry sees the Alphas do in gym class in school, most of the members in the group shift their weight from foot-to-foot and sort of make little clicking sounds in their mouths when they see that omegas are going to be playing on the same team as they are, but Harry’s used to it. He keeps his eyes to the grass and tries to stand out of the way.

  
He can see Louis out of the corner of his eye. This is the closest they've been all afternoon. This is the closest they've been since the end of last summer. Harry's stuck between wanting Louis to talk to him and wanting to escape. When someone asks “Eww, man, who's in heat?” and people laugh, he definitely thinks he wants to escape.

  
Just as someone's loudly shouting, “Oww,” Calvin eagerly tells Harry, “Get on my team, Harry! Over here.”

  
Harry finally looks up and around. He's gone to the wrong side, and people are staring at him. Louis’s standing in front of Harry now, and he'll have to walk around him and look like an idiot to go to the correct team.

  
“No, he's on ours,” Louis answers Calvin, and--oh God--he looks at Harry and smiles. Harry smiles back but then frowns. He has to remind himself he's mad at Louis. And why the hell is Louis smiling at him, anyway? Harry's surprised Louis even seems to recognize him.

  
Louis puts a hand on Harry's shoulder. “We're the team who was needed someone, remember?” he pointedly asks.

  
Harry stares at the hand touching him. Louis’s different-smelling than Harry remembers--like an airier smell--and Harry literally can hear his heart thump at the closeness.

  
“Do we seriously have to have omegas play with us right now?” a taller, blonde Alpha to the side of Louis calls out.

  
There's suddenly a bunch of commotion. Calvin is off to the side instructing his team of players to take off their shirts if they're still wearing one so everyone’ll know which team they're on, and when he steps close enough to hear what the sudden argument is about, he tells everyone talking over one another to shut up.

  
“Well, what d’you want us to do?” he demands. “Just leave out the other people who want to play?”

  
“No, just the omegas,” the blonde female tells Calvin seriously. “They're gonna mess up the game.”

  
“There’s a difference between being an omega and being an athlete,” Louis chimes in sassily. “And nobody would be playing if they didn’t want to play. So you should probably stop being such a--”

  
“Yeah, but just ‘cause they want to play doesn’t make ‘em any good,” the same Alpha counters.

  
“Is this your party now or something?”

  
“If it was my party, I wouldn’t have a bunch of Alphas playing with a bunch of friggin’ omegas--and this one's in heat or something--”

  
“So, you can go ahead and leave,” Calvin interrupts over Louis’ growling. He turns slightly towards the side of the house and points. “Go out the way you came in.”

  
Calvin looks serious enough that the other Alpha actually listens. Harry can tell she wants to fight by the look in her eyes, but she doesn’t. She walks away, and Calvin follows her all the way into the front yard.

  
“Now we need someone new again,” Calvin says a few moments later, jogging back to where everyone’s still sort of impatiently standing.

  
“I'll sit out,” Harry suggests quietly. The whole situation’s made him unsettled. “So it's even again.”

  
“No, don’t do that,” Louis tells him, stepping forward. He looks to Calvin.

  
“Where's Will at? Will can play,” Calvin suggests.

  
Harry squints as he looks around. He finds his friend currently sitting in a chair by the pool staring at the game--well, staring at the people standing around about to play the game--and points him out. “...But he's not an Alpha.”

  
“It doesn't have to be even,” Calvin says, spirits high again now that he’d kicked that other Alpha out. He looks at Will and motions him to join with his hand. Harry’s glad that Will gets to be on his team, but once the game starts, Harry feels stupid for even agreeing to play.

  
His body still feels sensitive. Even jogging at a light pace makes his legs and pelvis-area hurt, so he mostly stays out of the way, probably making all the Alphas on his team think mean things in their heads about ever agreeing for him to join. Especially Calvin, who had said that he was actually good the last time he’d seen him play.

  
On two different occasions, Harry catches himself standing completely still, doing absolutely nothing but watching Louis, so he knows for sure the others on his team hate him.

  
He’s just forgotten how good Louis is at soccer. And how good he looks playing it.

  
When Harry gets ran into because he’s watching the way Louis’ leg muscles look as he runs, he actually falls to the ground and winces.

  
“Oh!” Will exclaims. “Sorry, dude!”

  
Harry smiles in relief. It's just Will. After taking Will’s hand to pull himself up, Harry motions to the house. “I don’t feel that good,” he admits. “I think I’m gonna sit out.”

  
“What’s wrong? Do you want me to call my mom?”

  
“No, really. It's just...” Harry holds his lower stomach in explanation. “I don't wanna play anymore.”

  
“Ohh,” Will says in understanding. “Yeah, you should maybe sit down and drink some water inside. It’s hot out here.”

  
Harry does go inside the house, but he walks all the way around the side of it to get inside. In the front yard, the omegas playing their riveting croquet game wave at him, and he politely waves back before walking inside the huge front door.

  
Freezing cold air hits Harry’s face as he stands in the empty, freezing cold entryway, looking around at everything. He's always wondered why some people have such huge entryways. What do they need all the space for? It's all unused and empty. At least Louis’ house has little hooks and cubbies for shoes and backpacks. And two benches to sit on and tie your shoes and stuff, too. That’s what Harry remembers using them for, anyway.

  
Harry could fit his entire room in the area Calvin’s family apparently needs to just walk inside and stretch.

  
Dull music is thumping from somewhere in the back, but the first floor of the house is completely quiet. It appears to be totally empty. Harry steps further inside and starts walking around, exploring.

  
There are lots of rooms--too many--that have no real purpose. They’re all nice, though. One of them has two wooden doll-houses in it that look more for show than for play. Another room only has a piano and a couch in it. He vaguely remembers it because it was the room that nobody was allowed to go in when they were all in elementary school.

  
Finally finding his way to the bathroom, he's horrified when he sees his appearance. All he can do is rinse off the sweat that’s formed on his skin. Maybe he would’ve attempted to look a little better if he knew Louis would be here, but then again, he tries to tell himself he shouldn’t care.

  
He escapes outside again, feet dragging with no particular motivation to do anything. He easily finds himself on the unoccupied side of the house and decides to walk around and explore more. It turns out his feet have taken him through a huge area of nicely-landscaped grass and into a thick patch of trees. Harry guesses that all the houses back in this neighborhood all practically have forests off to the sides of them because apparently rich people don’t want to ever have to look at their neighbors.

  
Harry walks into the woods. He would die to be able to live like this, to look up and around and not see or hear anyone. He's so used to having neighbors on both sides of the townhouse he’s lived in most of his life that it would be so nice to just have silence.

  
He feels his legs get scratched by tree limbs before he can find a trail and stick to it. There must be lots of trails in all the woods back in this neighborhood. One time he and Louis followed one that led to a big creek with a man-made bridge crossing it. Harry remembers finding little metal things from the Civil War back there. He still keeps them in a box on his dresser. He used to think it was so cool.

  
He can't believe Calvin's family owns this. This is their property. If it was Harry’s property, he could come out here and walk around whenever he wanted to. Whenever he wanted to. He could bring his journal and stay for hours. He could take a nap out here.

  
Just a few feet ahead, he sees the trail curve around a giant rock that’s just a little shorter than Harry but much, much wider. He could--he could even climb this rock and sit for hours. He could climb the rock and bring his journal and sit for hours. He desperately wishes he had brought it, but that doesn’t mean he still can’t climb it. After he approaches it, he circles it to find a good place to find his footing, but it’s as he’s trying to pull himself up that he sees movement from the corner of his eye, and he freezes.

  
He can make out Calvin and Will but not much else besides the fact that they're all alone and they're close together. Immediately, his hand covers his mouth to hold in his gasp. Calvin's shirt is still off from the soccer game, and he’s got Will completely backed up against a tree, pinning him there with one hand against the bark next to Will’s face. His hips are sort of close to Will’s own.

  
Harry guesses that after seeing an Alpha do this to Zayn, he should sort of be immune to the image, but he’s not. It still comes as a shock to see an Alpha towering over an omega, keeping them in place. Sniffing them like food.

  
He just never expected Calvin to be one of those Alphas, even if he couldn’t help it. Even if he had suddenly gone into rut or something.

  
“You’re so stupid,” he hears Calvin say to Will, sort of quietly but still loudly enough that Harry can make out every word, and it’s then that Harry’s jaw hardens.

  
He’s irritated. He’s so irritated. He’s pissed off that Alphas get to just say and do whatever they wanted to whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and he’s tired of it. He’s tired of it. If he’ll have to go down in history as the craziest omega the town’s ever known for daring to pick fights with older Alphas, he doesn’t care. He’ll stand up to any Alpha--all Alphas--who think they can keep getting away with treating omegas like dirt. Scaring them. Intimidating them. Ignoring them for an entire year like they’re dirt.

  
Maybe it’s because of what happened to Zayn or maybe it’s because he’s internally hurt by Louis and wants to take it out on Calvin, or maybe it’s the lingering frustration from just the way Alphas are, but whatever it is, Harry’s just mad. He doesn’t growl, but something weird rumbles in his throat, and he steps closer and closer until he genuinely surprises the pair when he says, “Leave him alone, Calvin.”

  
Even as Harry says it, his voice wavers. His hands are on his hips to keep them from shaking, but maybe it makes him look more serious. He lifts his chin.

  
Calvin turns his head and stands up straight, pushing himself away from the tree. His face changes when he recognizes who just spoke.

  
“Harry, what are you doing here,” he sighs unhappily. He looks around the woods to see if there’s anyone else there.

  
Harry can’t seem to answer, but he stands up taller. He can’t believe just a few moments ago he and Calvin were playing soccer together, laughing.

  
“Do you mind getting outta here?” Calvin asks in a way that’s not really a question. “Just go back to--”

  
“No. I won’t,” Harry goes on, taking a daring step forward. “Stop--stop what you're doing.”

  
Harry looks to his friend, but Will won’t meet his eyes. Harry’s probably gone and scared him worse. And yeah--Harry’s sort of scared now, too. He’s just back-talked an Alpha. He’s officially the dumbest person ever. There’s literally no protection from any adults or school officials to help him this time, and even though he knows Calvin and Calvin knows him, who’s to say that that even matters?

  
“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Calvin retorts. When he sees Harry’s not going anywhere, he shakes his head and walks towards Harry, trying to chase him away. “Go on, Harry.”

  
Harry continues, even as he blindly retreats backwards, “He’s smaller than you! He can’t defend himself alone! Just--just let him--”

  
“Harry, for the last time, just go away!” Calvin interrupts loudly, aggravated now.

  
Calvin keeps walking forward and Harry keeps walking backward, afraid but not backing down, shouting at Calvin to stop taking advantage of his friend, and it’s somewhere between Calvin saying “Harry, just stay out of it,” and “Watch where you’re going, man!” that Harry messes up his footing, trips backwards over a tree root, and falls into a small dip of land covered by a bunch of leaves.

  
He tries to break his fall with the palms of his hands and a large ugly sound, but his head still hits the tree root. It's not very painful, but it shocks him. Just as he's squirming around and realizing that he can’t do much sitting flat on his back, Calvin watches him and clicks his tongue in annoyance.

  
Will scurries over looking worried. “Harry--”

  
“LOUIS!” Calvin calls out, so loud Harry thinks it echoes. It definitely hurts his ears. Calvin’s mad. “Louis, come get him, he fell in some--he fell in some fucking hole, man!”

  
And it’s like Louis’s already right there or something. It’s not even a minute before he comes jogging up beside Harry before Harry can even tell where he came from, and Harry swears Louis sniffs the air before he angrily questions Calvin.

  
“What’d you do to him?”

  
“I didn’t do nothin’, dude, he just tripped.”

  
While Harry remains pouting trying to push himself up, covered in leaves and probably looking utterly ridiculous, Louis looks down at him but doesn’t say anything.

  
Screw this.

  
With determination, Harry pushes himself upright and attempts to stand, but he’s already too late. Louis’s already bent down, hands under Harry’s armpits, and as he easily pulls Harry the rest of the way out of the small hole, Harry stupidly flails his arms around trying to get to Will.

  
How ridiculously unnecessary. He could've easily just stepped out himself if he would’ve had a little more time.

  
“Harry--what the--”

  
Harry wants to hug Louis but instead fights his hold in order to get Will away from Calvin. Louis holds him back firmer. Calvin's eyes are red, but he's not moving or doing anything, and Harry knows if he goes away that it's only a matter of time before Calvin’s rut completely takes over.

  
“Will--!”

  
“Harry, stop struggling,” Louis orders, and Harry just does. It's the weirdest feeling, but it goes away in moments, and he takes a step to Will.

  
“This wouldn’t’ve happened if you--”

  
“Calvin, just shut up,” Louis says without any real anger. When he looks at his friend, though, his tone changes. “And I’d appreciate it a lot if you didn’t flash your eyes at him.”

  
“Get him under control, then,” Calvin tells Louis.

  
“Will, leave,” Harry urges, struggling nonstop, and it’s then that Louis lifts Harry up completely, throws him over his shoulder, and walks out of the woods.

  
“What the--? No--NO--Louis, let me go!” Harry screams, wiggling side-to-side. “Let me go! Will! WILL!”

  
Louis keeps Harry held in a fireman’s carry all the way into Calvin’s house. Harry pointlessly struggles and kicks his feet the entire time, and when Louis sets him down on the hard, granite counter in the kitchen, he huffs and crosses his arms. He probably smells like sweat again, and with him being so close to Louis, he's sure Louis’s revolted.

  
“Not cool,” is all Harry can think to say. These are the first words he's really spoken to Louis in far too long, and they come out whiny and irritating. He doesn’t know what else to say. He can’t think.

  
However he must sound, Louis looks amused. “Take a minute to calm down, Haz.”

  
He’s using Harry’s nickname. Screw him.

  
Also--gosh, does he look good close up. His hair is lighter from the sun, all messy from being in the pool and sweating in the outdoor heat, and he's wearing a loose-enough tank-top that Harry can make out his ribs and abs and of course see his toned arms, and Harry's stunned speechless just seeing him in person.

  
“Is this a thing for you now?” Louis lightly asks, a tilt at the sides of his mouth. “Fighting Alphas?”

  
Louis steps a tiny bit closer to Harry so his hip sort of touches Harry's knee, and Harry catches a whiff of perfume he'd noticed earlier but couldn't place. It's perfume from somebody not in the room. It's on Louis’ skin.

  
Ugh.

  
Harry can't smile back at Louis. It's not funny. None of this is funny. He frowns grumpily and, if possible, crosses his arms tighter. “I wasn’t fighting anybody.”

  
The way Louis stares at Harry, Harry’s half-way expecting him to lean forward and kiss him. He doesn’t know why that’s always the first thing that enters his head whenever Louis’s in front of him--which isn’t ever--but still. It’s stupid. It’s a stupid thought. Harry’s still a fool and just wants him to, wants him to kiss him so bad--always. He leans forward and purses his lips the tiniest bit.

  
Louis won’t do it. Of course he won’t. He smells like someone else. She’s probably here. Harry hasn’t noticed her anywhere, but why wouldn't she be? He shakes his head and begins to slide off the counter.

  
A hand on his chest stops him.

  
“You really should calm down. Stay there before you get yourself hurt,” Louis tells him. Harry sits up straight again with his bottom lip wobbling. “Wait, are you already hurt? What’s wrong?”

  
“I’m not--I’m not hurt,” Harry deflects, sniffing. He knows his face is all scrunched up in anger and it’s probably ugly, but he can’t help it. “I’m just. Mad.”

  
Louis’ shoulders shake a little bit.

  
Harry’s face scrunches up even more. “Are you laughing at me?”

  
“No, no,” Louis widens his eyes and quickly responds. “I’m not.”

  
“Yes, you are.” He tries to hop off the counter again because screw this, seriously, but his hands hurt when he puts them on the counter, and he winces.

  
Louis’ eyes sharply drop to Harry’s hands. “You did get hurt.”

  
Harry looks at the palms of his hands and just begins to notice little bits of rock stuck in his skin, tiny speckles of blood surrounding them. “Wow, I didn’t even feel--”

  
“Sit still.” Louis walks out of the room and is gone for about two minutes which Harry spends staring at the nice floor and sulking. He hates that he obediently answered Louis with “okay.”

  
Louis comes back carrying a brown bottle of some sort and walks to the sink. After turning on the faucet, he reaches out for Harry’s wrists and guides him to the flow of the water to rinse off the rocks. That part is easy enough, even if a lot of the water gets on the yarn-bracelets his sister had gotten for him, sticking them to his skin. What sucks is when Louis pours hydrogen peroxide all over Harry’s palms.

  
“Owww!” Harry retracts his hands when the solution starts to fizz and burn, but Louis holds them out.

  
“I have to, Haz.” Louis blows cool air on Harry’s palms for a little and eventually asks, “What happened out there, anyway?”

  
Harry’s still mad that Louis’s using his nickname. “I fell in a ditch.”

  
“Yeah, I saw.” As he chuckles, Louis’ eyebrows raise, those perfect arches that have always made his eyes look so soft and nice.

  
Harry's jaw is still clenched. He can't freakin’ stand his thoughts right now. “You know,” he braves, “it's not right for Alphas to do whatever they want to omegas and get away with it all the time. It makes me sick.”

  
The eyebrows lower and scrunch together. “What?”

  
“Calvin was being mean to my friend,” he mumbles. He looks down. He's lost his confidence.

  
“Cal?” he asks disbelievingly. “You think Cal was being mean to your friend?”

  
Harry doesn’t appreciate that their first conversation in a year--over a year--is going this way. “He was, and if you didn’t go and drag me away from them, then--”

  
“Cal doesn’t bully omegas, ba--Haz. Most of his family are omegas.” He continues to blow cool air on Harry’s palms, now crouched over. “Do you need band-aids?”

  
“Thanks for believing me,” Harry responds too loudly. What a lovely reunion this is. “You don’t even know what he said!”

  
“Well, what’d he say?”

  
“He called Will stupid!”

  
Louis pauses for a moment. “He prob’ly didn’t mean it how it sounded,” he explains, finally standing up. He looks at Harry’s palms. “Band-aids?”

  
“So? He still needs to know how it sounded,” Harry argues. “And how getting all in someone’s space until they can't breathe isn’t right. Alphas are such assholes.”

  
Louis stares at Harry. “Am I an asshole?”

  
After wiping off his hands on his shirt, Harry folds his arms again. It’s completely out-of-character when he bites back, “I don’t know, are you?”

  
After a long, tense silence in which Harry doesn’t really reply and both of them are just stuck staring at one another, Louis sighs. “I'm just giving you some advice. You just need to be careful. Some Alphas wouldn’t be so nice if an omega challenged them to a fight like that, you know. That's--”

  
“I don’t care,” Harry sulks. Louis’s been staring so much at Harry that Harry can’t help but shrink under his gaze.

  
“Well, maybe I do,” Louis retorts strongly. His eyes blaze, piercing Harry. “Stay here.”

  
Louis leaves the room again, and when he returns, he turns Harry's hands to stick bandages on them.

  
“I can do things myself,” Harry mutters uselessly. “I’m not weak.”

  
“I know you aren’t.” Louis leaves the thin packages and white, plastic backs of the band-aids on the countertop. “Putting these things on your hands with both of ‘em bleeding isn't easy.”

  
“No, I mean earlier. You pulled me out of the ditch like a baby.”

  
“You were provoking an Alpha who was-- you were--” Louis sighs. “Look, I know you're not weak, but neither are Alphas. You need to be smart.”

  
Harry glares at Louis, but he knows he just looks like a child. Going against all instincts in his entire being screaming at him to stay close to Louis and just do what he says, be a good omega, he scoots down until he’s off the counter and growls in the tiny way his throat allows.

  
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Harry stands there feeling mad and dumb and guilty and bad. He shouldn't feel bad. He's not the one who’s done anything wrong. “Don’t…”

  
Louis’s face is serious now. Harry guesses the growling worked. “Don’t what?”

  
“Stop making me feel guilty,” Harry pathetically finishes.

  
“That’s not--I’m not,” Louis argues loudly but not unkindly. “Harry, It’s just--I’m only saying. If that wasn’t Calvin out there, maybe you would've had more than scraped hands, alright?”

  
Louis’ voice has been surprisingly calm this entire time. Harry thinks about it now, and really, he doesn’t know what he expected. He hasn’t really thought about how their ideal reunion would ever go. It wouldn’t happen like this in his dreams, that’s for sure.

  
But here they are. And maybe Harry wants a fight.

  
“Is that like a threat or something?”

  
The confusion on Louis’ face deepens. “Uh, no…”

  
“Well, stop--um. Stop acting like you even care,” Harry mutters before wiping his nose with his shirt-sleeve and turning away.

  
“What are you talkin’ about, Harry? I just got you out of the ditch!”

  
Harry could’ve gotten himself out of the ditch. He only tripped. That's all.

  
“I’ve been trying to--”

  
“Whatever.” Harry looks down at the floor. “I could’ve gotten myself--”

  
“Fine,” Louis says, frowning now. “You can do things on your own. But you shouldn’t have to. Not when...not like...” Louis looks mad, and something inside Harry recoils knowing he's unhappy. He still wants to provoke him for some reason, and apparently it's working. When did he become like this?

  
Harry huffs and fixes his jeans. He walks right past Louis and says loud enough for him to hear, “I can’t keep relying on other people my whole life, can I?”

  
“You can rely on me!”

  
Harry's in the living room now. “And look where it's gotten me,” he says under his breath so Louis can't hear.

  
“What does that even mean, you can’t rely on people?” Louis shouts after Harry. Louis repeats himself. “You can rely on me.”

  
Harry’s beside the front door when he turns around. “Oh, can I?”

  
Louis pauses with a frustrated scowl on his face. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” he demands again.

  
Harry turns away again and puts his hand on the doorknob. “What’s what mean?”

  
When Harry opens the door, Louis places his hand on it and closes it again.

  
“Louis, stop,” Harry whines.

  
The next time Harry opens the door, Louis just follows him outside on the porch. He’s close enough to be his shadow. “What’s that mean, Harry? Oh, can I?”

  
Harry keeps ignoring him.

  
“I know sarcasm. What did you mean?”

  
“If you know sarcasm,” Harry mutters, walking down the stairs and off the porch, “figure it out.”

  
“Where is this--? What the hell, Harry! I just helped you out of the ditch--and I get things for you--”

  
Harry whips his body around. “Don’t just lift me out of a tiny little hole and then think you’re...you’re... I don’t know! Super-Alpha or something! Just--don’t do that! You haven’t even--you haven't--”

  
Harry’s breathing heavily now, and when he looks away from Louis, he sees people on the front lawn watching and listening to them. They make noises under their breath, and some of them laugh.

  
Great. He's just embarrassed Louis in front of other people, and he feels awful.

  
But he shouldn't!

  
Harry tries to compose himself the best he can before he quickly walks up the driveway, but the thickness in his throat and stinging in his eyes gets in the way of that. Why had he said that? Why had he said any of that?

  
When Harry's speed-walked a good distance away from the house, he starts jogging down the sidewalk and lightly crying at the same time, making his chest hurt. He's pretty sure he's hurt Louis’ stupid pride enough that Louis would rather stay at the party and fix his image than chase after Harry, but still, he runs. He runs so he won't be caught. And all it does is make his ass hurt worse.

  
He wants to go home. This isn’t his home. This is Louis’ neighborhood. Even though Louis isn't there--hasn't been there for him in a year--it's like Louis’s all around him, smothering him. Normally he would love that feeling, except right now it only reminds him of all the good times they’ve had and how all that stuff is long gone now and will never be coming back. Not when Louis has grown up and replaced Harry.

  
He wants to be a kid again. He wants to go back.

  
When Harry was seven, he and Louis walked the same streets in Power Ranger costumes for Halloween. Louis was red. Harry was pink. Harry got cold. Louis gave him his jacket.

  
When he was eight, Harry was the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz and Louis was a greaser, and Louis gave him exactly half of his own candy the next day. When Harry was nine, he was a rock star, and Louis was a rapper. That's the last year Louis dressed up. He still went trick-or-treating with Harry the next year, though. He just put on a big football jersey.

  
Would Louis ever really leave Harry's mind? Harry doesn't think so. He doesn't think it's possible. Everything reminds him of Louis, now more than ever because these roads have such deeply-ingrained memories for him.

  
He just keeps running, now trying to escape his thoughts just as much as he's trying to escape the party.

  
When the sun hides behind the clouds and Harry’s suddenly grabbed by the arm, he squeaks a little in his throat as his footing gets all messed up. He's forced to slow down the speed of his legs, and luckily he holds in his scream and manages not to pee in his shorts at the shock of being touched.

  
“Harry, would you freakin’ stop? I’ve been chasing you forever,” Louis gets out with difficulty, holding his side. “Jesus, you got fast.”

  
Harry stands still. He and Louis both look at each other and pant, their chests rising and falling in unison, their breath mixing up together in an unhappy way.

  
He’s been caught. He’s so pathetic. He’s so frustrated at himself. He always gets caught. What kind of an omega can't even flee? And when, Harry thinks bitterly, would people realize that when he does flee, he doesn't want to be followed?

  
He also doesn't want to be someone who cries so freakin’ easily, but apparently his control of his tear ducts is nonexistent. Harry wipes his eyes and just sits down, right there on his ass directly on the sidewalk by Louis’ feet. It hurts.

  
Louis sits down, too.

  
“Why'd you have to follow me?” Harry grumbles.

  
By the time Louis finally says something, Harry’s eyes are dry.

  
“Because you ran.”

  
Harry crosses his arms.

  
“Look,” Louis sighs. He stares ahead, looking like he's concentrating very hard. “I can tell you’re…”

  
Louis never finishes. Harry sighs, as well. “What, Louis?”

  
Louis still doesn’t answer right away. He puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

  
“I think that--uh. I didn’t mean to, um...I didn't mean to make you upset.”

  
From an Alpha, that's the closest thing to an apology Harry’ll ever get, and actually, Harry should be the one apologizing right now. Harry doesn't think any Alpha he's ever known has ever said something like that after being insulted in front of a group of people.

  
Harry can't even be happy to hear it. At Louis’ touch, there's that same unfamiliar, flowery odor floating up into his nose, and he thinks he’s going to lose it again. He shakes Louis’ hand off.

  
Louis stares open-mouthed at his own hand once it falls, and Harry can’t help but whimper.

  
“Don’t touch me anymore,” he whispers as he lifts his knees up to his chest. He wraps his arms around his shins. “Please. I can't--”

  
Harry can tell that he's succeeded in making Louis as upset as he is now, and it doesn't make him feel better like he thought it would. It makes him feel like shit. He hates that Louis dropped his hand slowly like his feelings are hurt, but Louis has hurt Harry’s feelings a lot, too. A part of him realizes that deliberately trying to make Louis hurt just like he does is an awful thing. Harry doesn’t know if he even knows himself anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will eventually get better.


	11. stays right here in its cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're talking again!--Yay! .......But......

Staring at his own hand he's just lowered from Harry's shoulder, Louis desperately scents the air to try to gauge Harry's mood. It’s been going up and down since Louis carried him away from the woods and into Cal’s kitchen, and it's strange that even now that it's literally just the two of them--just Harry and Louis, away from the party, away from everyone--Harry’s still ridiculously on edge. 

 

Louis used to know how to calm Harry down when he'd be upset. This seems more than that, though, and Louis, so thrilled to be speaking to Harry again after so long, can’t figure out what he needs to do. He hasn’t been able to figure out where Harry’s emotions are coming from at all, and it’s confusing. It’s not in Harry's nature to be so...Louis wouldn't call it  _ manic,  _ really _ ,  _ but it's close.

 

His nostrils flare. All he smells is rain. 

 

The sky has turned grey, and there’s an uncomfortable stillness in the damp air that would almost be eerily calm if the storm that's already brewing between Louis and Harry weren't already so loud and obvious that it could literally thunder right now and they both wouldn't even notice. 

 

“Look, I was just trying to help,” Louis finally says, dejected. He can't help that his voice ends up coming out wimpish, like the world’s worst Alpha. “I just wanted to let you know you can rely on me. If you thought you couldn’t.”

 

Harry chances a peek at Louis to raise his eyebrows in a way that indicates he couldn't hear what Louis’d said. His eyes are dry but puffy, and blue has almost completely taken over the iris.

 

Louis repeats himself louder. “I said, you can rely on me.”

 

Harry does that whimper noise again, and it just makes Louis want to reach out once more, but he doesn't.

 

Louis is not helping. He still hears Harry's heart beating quicker.

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

“You’re lying.” 

 

Harry doesn’t respond by voice or body language, and Louis sighs. He’s fucked  _ everything  _ up. “Do you want me to leave?”

 

Harry still doesn't respond, but Louis thinks he shakes his head. He won’t even look at Louis now, so Louis can't be sure. 

 

Louis puts his fingers in his hair. 

 

“Would you talk to me?” he finally asks. “I can't figure out what…Would you just--say something?”

 

Harry finally turns his face up to Louis, purposefully, and his lips part and his mouth drops open like he's offended. 

 

“Look, you don't have to sit here with me,” he tells Louis in a small but strangely deep voice. His voice has gotten so low. “I'm really sorry. I'm fine. I’ll just … I'll wait for Will’s mom to come back.”

 

“But I dri--”

 

Harry’s big eyes get huge and his mouth falls open again in a giant gasp. His band-aid covered palms lift to cover his mouth. “Oh, no!” 

 

“What? What is it?”

 

Harry stands up suddenly. “Oh,  _ crap _ .” 

 

“What's wrong?” Louis asks, springing up, too.

 

“ _ What’s wrong _ ?” Harry repeats. ”I need to make sure he’s  _ okay _ \--oh, my God--we just left him there. You freakin’ carried me away, Louis! Thanks a lot!”

 

“You were all alone with a provoked Alpha,” Louis explains. “Make sure who's okay?”

 

“Will!”

 

“...Why wouldn’t Will be okay?”

 

Harry exasperatedly answers, “Because Calvin’s in rut, Louis--”

 

“What?” Louis asks in surprise. He's truly taken aback. “Calvin's not in rut! What are you talking about?”

 

“You were right there! His eyes were all red and he had Will pinned to the tree, and then he--”

 

“Ohhhh, is  _ that _ why you were acting like that, then?” Louis takes a step to the left when Harry takes a step to his right. 

 

“Would you let me get by, please?”

 

“Calvin’s not in rut. I've known him forever. He wouldn't be out in public if he was in rut.”

 

“Well, then, he--he still--he was being mean to Will--”

 

“It wasn't like that. He's not that kind of Alpha.”

 

“You don't know--”

 

Harry clearly doesn't get what Louis’s trying to say. “Harry. I  _ do _ know. Calvin likes Will,” he quietly explains, and it’s only then that Harry stops trying to walk past him. “Just so you know. He wasn’t picking on him. Or doing anything Will didn’t want. They were just making out.”

 

“Oh.” Harry deflates. He clears his throat. 

 

“So. Yeah,” Louis finishes quietly. He lifts his eyebrows and looks to the side.

 

“That's...great. Great for them.”

 

“I guess,” Louis mutters. “Calvin’s very…”

 

“Calvin's very what?”

 

“Nothing.” Louis shakes his head. Calvin’s very  _ quick _ with his omegas is what Louis was going to say--like, once he likes them he  _ likes _ them--but that would sound bad coming out after he's literally just said he's ‘not that kind of Alpha.’ “So is that what you've been upset about this whole time? You thought he was in rut with Will? Or bullying Will or something?”

 

Harry gulps visibly but ends up answering sarcastically. “Have I not been clear enough?”

 

Louis smiles. Harry doesn't smile, but he doesn't frown, either. “I thought you were mad at Will for ditching you. When you found him, you got angry and yelled his name, so. I just thought maybe he had--” Louis shrugs. “Bad assumption, I guess. Can you blame me?”

 

“Will didn't ditch me at all. If anything, I ditched him.” Harry sits right back down on the sidewalk, and even though it's gonna rain any minute, Louis sighs and does, too. “I ditched the whole soccer team.” Harry looks sad, then he turns to Louis in suspicion. “Wait, how did you know that?”

 

“How’d I know what?”

 

“How did you know what happened in the woods? That I said his name and got mad?”

 

“Oh.” Louis frowns. Well, he might as well be honest. “I, uh.” He looks around his shoulder. “Look, I'm breaking the code by saying this, so don't say a  _ word _ , especially not to your friend, but I was just...sort of hanging around nearby to make sure no one would bother them. Like Cal’s dad or anything coming to look for him. But I wasn't close enough to be gross or anything, though,” he finishes quickly. “I couldn't even see them.”

 

“So you were a lookout?”

 

“Yeah.” Louis just shrugs. 

 

“Well, you must be the world’s worst lookout, then.”

 

“I--” Louis begins to defend himself, but he stops. 

 

He was about to admit how he'd seen Harry come from the house and had completely forgotten about Cal and Will once he started watching the little expressions on Harry's cute face as he explored the forest. He didn't want to be creepy by stalking or prowling after Harry, so he stayed put, watching from really far away, but he wishes he hadn't. He didn't even realize there was a serious problem going on until it was too late. 

 

Again, if he were just a better Alpha he could've prevented that shit from even happening in the first place. Screw being a good lookout.

 

Louis’s silent for a long time before he clears his throat. He's been doing that a lot, he's noticed. “Yeah.”

 

“So, great. They probably hate me for being a cockblock now,” Harry mumbles.

 

Louis chokes on air. “Um. No. Why--why would you say that?”

 

“Because I kept them from...you know,” Harry mopes.

 

“Well, I don't know your friend,” Louis says, suddenly feeling hot all over, “but Calvin’ll get over it. He knows not to…”

 

“...Not to what?”

 

_ Not to say a single negative word about you.   _ “Not to...be like that. Rude like that.”

 

“You think a lot of him.”

 

“He's a good dude. Deep down. He really is. We give each other a lot of shit, but he's a good guy. But he never should have flashed his eyes at you. He was just protecting Will, but still. I'll talk to him about it.”

 

“You don't have to. It's okay.”

 

“No, it's not. He's the reason you fell, isn't he?”

 

“It really was my own fault for barging in on them and then, like, interrupting. I’ll apologize.”

 

“Please. Calvin’s gonna apologize to  _ you _ . You know he’s my friend and all, but it was still unacceptable. You got hurt.”

 

There's a big line of ants on the pavement that Harry's been watching. Probably all trying to find their home because of the imminent storm. He doesn't say anything in reply. 

 

“Anyway, he's happy with your friend,” Louis says, trying to lift the mood. “And he seems like he's nice, too. Wonder what he sees in Calvin,” Louis chuckles.  

 

“He’s a good guy. Will.”

 

“Good at soccer, that's for sure,” Louis adds. Trying to make conversation has become hard when the general mood and topic have become awkward now. Things aren't the same. Louis’s been keeping his distance from Harry now ever since Harry asked him to, and it makes him sad, but it's what Harry had asked. He wants  _ so bad _ to make him feel better. He can’t stand it.

 

“Yeah, better than me.”

 

“Naw. You learned from the best.”

 

Harry shrugs.

 

Louis imperceptibly scoots closer to Harry. “You still smell really upset.”  _ Ask me to fix it.  _

 

“I’ll be fine,” Harry says meekly. For the millionth time during the past ten minutes.

 

Louis presses on. “Are you sure I can’t do anything? Kick his ass for you?”

 

Harry gasps. “Whose?”

 

“Calvin’s.”

 

“No, please don’t. I really don’t want to cause problems. I never meant--”

 

“I was just playing. But I’d do it if you asked me to.”

 

“Oh. Thanks, I guess. But I’m not upset at Calvin at all. I already told you, it was--”

 

“It’s Will then, isn’t it? You’re mad at him?”

 

“I mean.”  Harry pulls his legs up to his chest again. He rests his chin on his knees. “No, not really. It’s just--He just never told me anything. Like, that he liked Calvin. I didn’t know any of that.”

 

Louis quietly responds, “Some people maybe don't like to talk about stuff like that all that much.”

 

Harry looks away from Louis and scoffs. “I really don't feel good,” he speaks, looking in the other direction. “I'm think I'm just gonna go home.”

 

“What? How?”

 

“I'll walk.”

 

“Don't be crazy. Smell the air. It's gonna rain soon.”

 

“Rain won't kill me.”

 

“I can drive you.”

 

“No, you can't,” Harry whispers, turning back to look Louis’ way.

 

“Yes, I can. I have a car.”

 

“No, I mean. You  _ can't _ .”

 

Louis looks up. The sky is getting even darker. He sighs. “Is he even home?”

 

Harry shrugs. “This is the first time I've left my house in a week. I don't wanna risk getting caught and being stuck home for another month, so.”

 

“What, were you grounded this week?”

 

Harry shakes his head. “Just sick.”

 

Louis knows what that means. That's how his mom puts it now when Lottie's in heat since apparently all that has just started for her a few months ago. Louis stays out of it but can't help but overhear when they talk about it at home. He guesses he should get used to open conversation about heats now with so many young omegas in the house. It’s gonna be happening left and right soon. God.

 

“We can go to my house, then,” Louis suggests. “I'll get my uncle or someone to drive you back.”

 

“I can just walk.”

 

“No. C’mon, let's go to my car.” Louis reaches out and then retracts his hand. “I know everyone wants to see you.”

 

Harry sniffs and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Really?”

 

Louis nods. “You’ve been missed.”

 

They walk to the car in silence. When Louis gets to James’ old BMW, he stops walking and motions to it. 

 

“This is yours?”

 

Louis nods. “My uncle’s, but it's mine now, yeah.”

 

He hopes Harry's impressed even though it's technically not even his car. Well, it is, but he didn’t work for it. He didn’t buy it. It was given to him. He has enough money to buy a car of his own, probably, so maybe next year he will. Something that he can make smell like his own. His smell on the driver’s side, Harry’s smell on the passenger side. A backseat maybe that smells like them both.

 

Thunder so loud Louis can feel it in his bones suddenly sounds out, and Harry jumps and reaches out to grab Louis’ arm with both hands. Both he and Louis look down to where their skin makes contact, and even though there are rubbery band-aids on Harry’s palms, the squeezing of his fingers into the meat of Louis’ bicep is so real and so sudden that Louis can’t speak. He and Harry look at once another, really looking for the first time since Harry ran away, and the color in Harry’s eyes swirls around and around until it’s finally warped by the brightness of the lightning in the sky.

 

“Here,” Louis says, opening the passenger door just as little drops of rain hit his head, “get in.”

 

While he watches Harry syrupy-slow movements down into the car, he’s glad he’s not imagining how hard it is to break contact and separate. So it's not just him then. 

 

“Man, it’s gonna come fast,” Louis mutters, looking up at the dark clouds rolling in above quicker and quicker. He rubs his scratchy neck. “I’ll be back--gonna let him know I’m leaving with you.” 

 

He waits for Harry to sit down before he shuts the car door and runs off to find Calvin. Halfway down the drive, he mutters “fuck it” under his breath and runs right back. Cal’s probably gone right back to kissing Will, and Louis can’t leave Harry alone, anyway.

 

Louis slams the driver’s door shut just as pellets of rain start falling hard onto the car. He shoves his key into the ignition and quickly starts up the car, and, stretching an arm on the back of Harry’s seat, says, “Technically speaking, I'm supposed to have a licensed driver with me at all times for the next eight months, but you won't tell, will you?”

 

Harry keeps a straight face. “How do you know I don't have a license?”

 

Louis grins. “I forgot you excelled at everything.” He puts the car in gear, turns on the windshield wipers, and he’s off.

 

Harry stares at him. “Aren’t you going to put your seatbelt on?”

 

“It’s a one-minute drive,” Louis answers incredulously.

 

“A minute’s all it takes to wreck,” Harry reminds him.

 

Louis buckles up.

 

During the short drive, Harry keeps doing funny things with his face like he does before he’s about to sneeze, and Louis frowns, already knowing he can smell Hannah in the car. Fuck. 

 

It’s the shortest drive in existence, and as Louis slows down to pull into his family’s long drive-way, it starts to truly rain. Like, the-sky-is-personally-punishing-the-ground rain. It's October, but the storm is intense like it's the middle of summer. Maybe it’s a hurricane. Louis doesn’t pay attention to the weather forecast. Who would throw a pool party if there was rain in the forecast, anyway?

 

While staring at the windshield, Harry zones out intently, seeming to think very hard about something. Louis turns his entire body to look at him. He can fix all this. He can make this better. He can make it normal. He has to. This is his chance. They’re stuck in the car.

 

“I'm glad you came to the party today.”

 

That gives Louis a tiny smile. 

 

“It was fun.”

 

“It's been so freakin’ long, hasn't it? Haven't seen you in forever.”

 

Harry nods. “Yeah.”

 

“I just wish...It sucks. All of this happened really bad, didn’t it?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Just--” Louis shrugs. “What happened.” He motions to Harry's palms to indicate that he's talking about the woods, the kitchen, the sidewalk. All of it. In his dreams his reuniting with Harry went more along the lines of grabbing his face and pressing their bodies close and smiling endlessly while they kissed. Not that he'd really do that. But maybe a hug at least. 

 

“It's my own fault. I shouldn’t’ve even been back there. It’s not my house. I--”

 

“Haz, shut up about that. It wasn’t your fault. I’m sure the wild croquet game out front was pulling you in and all, but you can do your own thing whenever you want. Walk around the woods, whatever. Don't apologize. I'm just saying--I guess I'm  just saying sorry for Calvin. And all that shit.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Louis tries not to sigh as loudly on the outside as he does on the instead when he lightly says, “I tried to talk to you all afternoon, you know. You're a pretty popular guy.”

 

Harry points to his chest. “Me?”

 

Louis’ pocket vibrates. He ignores it and nods at Harry. “That blonde Alpha--”

 

“His name’s Niall,” Harry interrupts. 

 

Like Louis’s forgotten. “Right. Niall. He followed you around a lot.”

 

“He follows everyone around.”

 

“Oh, does he? I just saw him follow you.”

 

Harry makes a noise in his throat.

 

“Anyway, just saying. You had lots of people around you all day besides that Alp--besides Niall.” Luckily, none of them accidentally scent-marked Harry, because if they did, Louis wouldn’t be able to keep himself from touching him himself.

 

Harry’s playing with his fingers in his lap, and he’s been looking at anything but Louis basically since Louis put the car in park. “Do you not like to talk to people if other people are around?”

 

“I wanted to talk to you alone.”

 

“Oh.” Harry finally lifts his head, and Louis sees a blue vein on his long, pale neck pulse and bring him in. He leans forward slowly, licking his lips without thinking. He hears Harry’s heart thumping.

 

The rain from outside isn’t letting up, and it feels like they’re in a giant car-wash. The thought alone makes some part of Louis’ heart soften just imagining the excited look on Harry’s face if they really were in a car-wash, like when they were little and in the backseat of Austin’s van, sharing stories and murmuring secrets while Louis’ sisters squealed.

 

The look on Harry’s face currently is still as unreadable as it’s been all afternoon, but Louis thinks Harry looks more Harry-like. Ruby-red lips. Open eyes. Vulnerable. Just beautiful. His neck is so bare, and Louis has to clench his own fists to keep himself from reaching out and taking it in between his hands.

 

“I’ve missed you, you know,” Louis whispers, ending it with a smile. “God, I’ve missed you.”

 

Harry’s lips part, and just as more thunder cracks outside, the side of Harry’s mouth tilts up. Like a smile. It’s barely a smile, but Louis will take it. 

 

“I’ve missed you, too.”

 

Louis grins at that, but he licks his lips before it gets too large and out of control. The center console is entirely in the way of how close he wants to be to Harry--not in a perverted way, but just to feel him--so he puts his forearm on it before leaning his upper body to the side a bit more.

 

“Your hair’s gotten more curly.”

 

“Yeah.” Harry looks up at it, and his eyes cross. “Gemma’s about to cut it.”

 

“Why? What for?”

 

Harry laughs. “‘Cause it’s...wild.”

 

“I like wild hair.”

 

Harry reaches out and touches the matted locks that lay tangled atop Louis’ head. “I see.”

 

Louis inhales for longer than is socially acceptable when Harry keeps his hand in Louis’ messy hair, and something animalistically protective pumps through his veins when Harry finally drops it and looks at him with a sort of amusement. 

 

Louis wants Harry. He wants him. It’s simple. He wants to be the only one Harry touches like this, and he wants to be the only one who touches Harry. He wants a relationship and all that comes with a relationship--all of it, good and bad, from bad-breath mornings to exuberant after-dark skinny-dipping, from nit-pickiness about household messes to Sundays spent vegging out on the couch--but mostly, he just wants Harry to be happy.

 

That’s just the thing that’s been holding him back for so long: Harry’s well-being. Harry graduating high school. Harry going to college if he wants to. Hell,  _ Louis  _ going to college so he can get a good-enough job to take care of Harry for the rest of their lives.

 

He’s gotta make his own choices. Louis can’t mark him and take all that away. It’d be impossible for them to ever get anything done if they bonded in high school. They’d just think about one thing all the time, even more than Louis does already. 

 

However much he wants to punch Des in the face, he agrees with him on the fact that Harry needs his youth to be...youthful. As innocent as possible. Not mated and pregnant in ninth grade and a father of three by the time he gets his diploma in twelfth.

 

How Louis’s ever gonna actually keep himself from bonding him, he doesn’t know. It’s grown-up mate stuff that Louis really needs to figure out, but he can’t really seem to care about it right now because Harry smells so good and he’s finally  _ smiling _ , and Louis’s gonna kiss him. Fuck it, he’s gonna do it, and he knows his teeth’ll probably drop ‘cause just thinking about it fucking makes them drop, but--he’s gonna do it. Like the assertive and strong Alpha he is. 

 

Their faces are close now, so close Louis can see freckles he’s never noticed before on Harry’s face, and Louis notices his chest isn’t the only one that’s expanding quickly. Louis looks down at Harry’s lips just as Harry’s licking them, and Louis drops his forehead on Harry’s own. Their noses touch, and suddenly, a ringing sound trills through the car so loud and insistent it’s heard over the rain.

 

Louis backs up to touch the phone in his pocket, silencing it, and whatever spell had formed breaks. When he turns to Harry again, he sees him sitting completely back on his side of the car again, frowning. 

 

“I have an umbrella in the trunk,” Louis mutters before he gets out of the car and is instantly soaked. He opens the trunk of the car like it’s personally pissed him off, grabs his umbrella, and has it opened and pressed to the passenger side of the car in time for another thunderclap to sound out. 

 

He’s mad that he doesn’t have the controller to the garage in his car yet because that means Harry has to walk all along the sidewalk, up the stairs, and onto the porch until he’s out of the rain. Louis holds the umbrella for him the entire way, but he still gets wet. Just as well. Louis’s absolutely drenched.

 

After Louis opens the door, he kicks off his flip flops and throws his car-keys onto a console table off to the side of the foyer. Awkward and silent, Harry and Louis stand still until Harry’s quickly bombarded by lots of little hands and arms hugging his shins.

 

“Harry!”

 

“It’s Harry!”

 

Louis has to change clothes, and when he comes back, he joins the reunion that’s now moved into the kitchen. Everyone’s standing up, congregating around the kitchen island, and nothing’s the same as it used to be.

 

Harry laughs at Louis’ little sisters and goes on and on about how they’ve grown up so much, trying to say it in a happy way, but there’s a heavy, invisible fog in the house that no one talks about the entire time he’s there. Louis knows the adults can clearly tell he's been crying, and they don’t say anything to Louis until well after Jay’s driven Harry home.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Jacob asks.

 

Louis shakes his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

 

But there is. And he has to figure it out on his own.

 

Louis contemplates how to break up with Hannah for the next week. He actually does it the following month before Thanksgiving break. It takes that long to do it because Louis doesn’t have enough balls to hurt her feelings even though he’s never really cared about them all that much anyway. Louis’s not a complete dick, though; he tells it to her face. She cries.

 

It sucks making someone else feel bad, but if he has to make anyone feel bad, he’d prefer it to be Hannah than Harry. 

 

He’s a jerk, and he _will_ fix this.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s after his birthday when Harry finally gets “caught.” He’s on the couch playing XBox when his dad sits next to him, watching, and immediately Harry’s hackles go up. Eventually, he just pauses his game when his dad goes too long without saying anything.

 

“I see you’ve been getting on the computer a lot recently,” he says, a coffee cup in his hands even though it’s seven in the evening. 

 

“It is mine,” Harry mutters. 

 

“Your mom bought it, actually,” Des reminds him, “and I pay for the internet.”

 

Harry’s face gets scolding hot. He doesn’t do anything  _ bad  _ on the computer, but ever since Jason’s party, he’s been back in touch with Louis on there again. Truthfully, he was devastated for weeks when he thought Louis was going to kiss him in his car but didn’t, but then he found out through Will that Louis had been sending him messages on MySpace for almost the entire seventh grade, and that feeling made him happier than he could remember being in a long time. 

 

(He was even happier when he found out he and that girl broke up. He’s become good at investigating stuff like that by looking on other people’s pages online, but he tries not to be weird about it. He doesn’t care if he’s weird by re-reading Louis’s messages, though. He keeps them in his inbox just so he can.)

 

“Well,” Harry says to his father. “Uh. I have homework I need it for. I had to look up facts about reptiles for my Biology project.”

 

“Yeah, komodo dragons, right?”

 

Good God. Harry nods.

 

Whenever he gets online, even if it is actually for school, he still opens AIM. And most of the time these days, when he’s online, Louis is, too. But so are lots of his friends. 

 

It’s not  _ all  _ about Louis.

 

His dad must think it is.

 

“Bonding is an adult concept,” he says out of nowhere. “You realize that, right? It’s for adults to do after they decide it’s for the best. It’s a big commitment.”

 

“I..I know this, Dad.”

 

He goes on while Harry just listens in confusion, “Many times, high school relationships don’t even last. Omegas get themselves too attached to someone, want to mate them, and end up doing that omega thing to them where they make them feel the same way when they really don’t.”

 

“Um.” Harry blinks. “Projecting?”

 

“Yeah, that.”

 

“Everything I’ve read says that projecting isn’t a real--”

 

“My point is, with so many  _ hormones  _ and  _ stress  _ and  _ decisions about the future _ going on in high school, adding a relationship to the mix is just bad news. Outside of your heats, you’re on the way to another year of perfect attendance, and your GPA is almost up to where it was last year. Think about how hard that would be to achieve if you had other things to worry about. Alphas to impress.”

 

“Yeah, but,” Harry answers, shrugging. “I mean--Gemma--”

 

“Gemma’s not the same,” Des interrupts. “Anyway, I think your mom’s almost done with dinner if you could set the table.”

 

Harry goes to bed that night and stares at the ceiling for a few hours before falling asleep. It might make him a bad person, but he enjoys the nights his dad is missing from the dinner table because he’s still working in the city better than when he’s actually home. 

 

He thinks his dad just told him he can’t date until he’s out of high school. And he has no intention of listening to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Slowly, things get better with Harry. Louis’s given up on the  letter-writing and goes back to just calling the house. About forty percent of the time he’s successful at actually reaching Harry, but that’s completely okay because Harry must be allowed to use the computer again. They’ve been talking on AIM a few times a week now. For hours at a time if it’s a weeknight.

 

When it’s warmer, Louis’ favorite thing becomes picking Harry up to go drive around the town. Louis will be getting a job soon, and he knows it’s gonna suck being apart when he’s gotten so used to being around Harry again, but he’ll find a way to still see him.

 

To Harry’s face, he’s been skirting the topic of dating. Well, he’s been skirting the topic of anything serious, actually. It’s much easier to just have fun because as much as he wants to date Harry and kiss Harry and do everything with Harry, his thoughts get so deep so easily that it freaks Louis out. They get...intense. Heavy. Intimate.

 

Mostly, they’re uncontrollable, and Louis has to have control. If he doesn’t, none of this is ever going to work.

 

It pisses him off that he’d even let himself be talked into going out with Hannah in the first place. For fucking kissing practice. He’s too fucking afraid that kissing Harry will lead to a big maroon wound on his neck that he hasn’t even made a move since Jason’s party.

 

It’s out-in-the-open that he likes Harry, and he’s sure that Harry understands the situation. Hell, with how much he says Des lectures him, Louis  _ knows  _ Harry gets it.

 

“I wanna show you something,” Louis says one day when they’re in his neighborhood, just walking. “Follow me.”

 

He takes Harry to the hill that he and Calvin go to a lot, and as they look down at the houses and scenery together, Louis’s glad Harry is happy. Eventually, they both end of laying on the forest floor, staring up at the green leaves of the trees while playing Twenty Questions.

 

“If you could stay here in the woods forever or stay in the city forever, what would you choose?”

 

“Ooh, that’s hard,” Louis replies. “Forever?”

 

Harry looks at Louis. “Forever ever.”

 

Louis sings back, “Forever ever?”

 

They both grin, but when Harry says, “Seriously,” Louis whistles.

 

“I dunno,” he says honestly. “That’s hard. If I’m out here forever, who am I with? I couldn’t just be out here all by myself. That would suck. I’d have to live the hard life out on the streets, then, I suppose.”

 

“Well, if I had to choose the forest or the city,” Harry answers, “I’d chose the forest, so you’d be with me if you lived in the forest, too.” 

 

“If I’d be with you, then I’d definitely choose the forest over the stinky, gross city.”

 

“How would we eat and stuff, though?” Harry wonders aloud. “That would be the only part that would suck. And where would we stay when it rained? Or snowed?”

 

“Well, I’d build something, of course. And hunt.”

 

“With what?”

 

“With my bare hands,” Louis answers gruffly. He stands up and looks around. Finding the nearest tree, a very young maple sapling, he breaks the trunk in half. There’s water in the middle of it, so it only snaps after three attempts, but when Louis’s holding the top of it in his hands, he shows it to Harry. “A million more of these to go, and I’d have us a nice shack. Then I’d go and cook you dinner. A nice squirrel, mmm.”

 

Harry pouts.

 

“What?”

 

“You killed the tree.”

 

Louis drops the stick and sits back down beside Harry. “How do you think you build stuff in the woods?”

 

“I know,” Harry says sadly, “but it’s still sad. I don’t like the idea of, like, killing trees and animals.” 

 

“Because you’re sweet,” Louis says, touching Harry on the nose with his index finger. “If you were cold and hungry enough, you wouldn’t mind it. Plus, as an Alpha, it would wound me if you didn’t like something I got for you, so you just think about that, huh.”

 

Harry smiles. “It would wound you?”

 

Louis nods with exaggeratedly big eyes and points to his chest. “Right here.” 

 

“You’re such an idiot. I’m glad you’re in theater so you have an outlet for...whatever this is.”

 

Louis lays back down on his back. “We’re so spoiled, aren’t we? Going to the grocery store and getting our meat just like that. Pushing a button for warmth at home. What if we really did live out here?”

 

Harry rolls on his side and looks to Louis. “We’d adapt,” he says simply.

 

“Adapt.” Louis moves his mouth in weird ways as he says it, being silly. “Adaptation. Good word, Curly.”

 

“Thanks.” Harry laughs, deep and content in his chest. “I’m serious, though. I think, when anything in your life changes, you just sort of have to do that. Adapt,” Harry finishes.

 

“Yeah.” Louis stares at Harry’s mossy eyes.

 

“That was question twenty, I think,” Harry says quietly.

 

“Right.” Louis sits up. “Well, since we  _ don’t  _ live out here and since it’s getting dark, let’s go back inside and you can help me with my English homework. Let’s adapt to that.”

 

“Why is it always English?” Harry grumbles while taking Louis’ arm to help him stand up. “English is literally the easiest subject ever. It’s the language you speak. You’ve been doing it for years.”

 

“Well, I can talk, yeah, so what do I need to read and write for?”

 

“To share ideas with people. To read other people’s ideas from hundreds of years ago.”

 

Louis smirks and nudges Harry with his elbow. “You really like it, don’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry answers quietly. “I love it.”

 

“Do you...do you write in your diary?”

 

Harry nods, holding onto Louis’ shirt as he steps over a large tree root. He always trips going downhill. “Well, it’s a journal, really, but I need a new one. I’ll run out of room soon ‘cause I use it so much, but I just go back to old pages and write in empty spaces if I have to.”

 

Louis smiles at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

 

“Why?” Harry laughs. “So I can get practice writing to be good at doing your work for you?”

 

“No, not--” Louis laughs, too. “No, I’m not glad you like it just so you’re good at doing my homework. I bought it for you, so I’m just glad you like it.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Harry’s stopped walking, so Louis does, too. “I--I bought it for you. Don’t you remember?”

 

Harry scrunches his eyebrows together and opens his mouth. It always makes him look like a frog, but Louis isn’t laughing. “I have a bad memory sometimes, but...I know for a fact that I found that journal outside on my porch.”

 

“You found it on your porch?” Louis asks. “Gemma didn’t give it to you?”

 

“What are you talking about? No, Gemma didn’t give it to me. I found it on our back porch. Gemma said she didn’t know whose it was, so I just kept it.”

 

“I bought that for you,” Louis repeats firmly. “I bought it for you and gave it to Gemma’s friend to give to you.”

 

“I wonder why she wouldn’t tell me it was from you,” Harry wonders quietly once they’ve begun walking again.

 

Louis is silent all the way out of the woods.

 

“Don’t be mad...” Harry says. “Please.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Well, you’re...something.”

 

About a minute away from his house, Louis puts his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Not at you.”

 

Inside, Louis still doesn’t drop the subject even when he drops his arm from Harry’s side. “Did you get anything I gave her?”

 

“You gave her more things than just the journal?”

 

“Harry, oh, my God,  _ yes _ , I gave her more things,” he says in a rush. “I gave her things, like, once a month for a whole freakin’ year.”

 

“She never said.” 

 

Jesus Christ. What the fucking hell.

 

“Well, what did you give her?” Harry asks.

 

“ That journal,” Louis says, now leading the way up to his bedroom, “a few DVDs, headphones, t hose bracelets you’re wearing--”

 

“Oh!” Harry exclaims. “I love these bracelets.”

 

In Louis’s room, Louis isn’t necessarily happy, but Harry’s light mood is rubbing off on him. Harry can’t stop smiling, and for the life of him, Louis can’t figure out why. He’s gonna have to talk to Gemma to figure out what the hell is going on.

 

“What?” he finally asks Harry.

 

Harry shakes his head quickly. He ducks it down to look at the English book in his lap, and even though he normally tries to teach Louis all the things he’s doing as he does them (“You’ll never get it right on the test if you don’t understand it”), tonight he settles for just doing the homework and letting Louis just copy it silently while he bites his lip.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....They don't kiss again for another few chapters because I'm AWFUL and want to make them HURT


	12. burn in it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to combine the next part to this one so it'd be more jolly but it would make it way too long and it's not quite finished yet.... sorry for the wait!!

**Summer, 14 and 16**

  
It doesn’t hit Louis--like, _really_ hit him--for a long, long time. Way longer than it actually should.

That’s not to say he doesn’t know. Of course he knows. _Has_ known. If anyone were to ask him outright (which no one would, because it’d be redundant and everyone knew it) about if he and Harry would be mates someday, of course he’d answer with a confident _yes_. But somehow that yes has always seemed to be pushed away, somewhere far far back. A someday yes. A future yes. A when-we’re-older-and-your-dad-doesn’t-hate-my-guts yes.

When it hits Louis that that “yes” could actually be a _soon_ yes--maybe even a _now_ yes--it’s like someone’s punched him in his stomach and sucked all the air out his chest both at the same time, and he thinks it’s the best and scariest feeling he’s ever had in his life.

He has excuses, he guesses, for why it takes so long. He could blame a lot on his age, on Harry’s age...on all the shit with Harry’s dad...on the fact that maybe he knows less than he thinks he does and hasn’t wanted to admit it to himself. But the main excuse would have to be that now, for the first time in his life that he can remember, he’s been non-stop busy. Truly, extremely busy. For much of the summer, his life is fast and blurry, like in the way when he was a kid and then suddenly he wasn’t and everything became weirdly different before there was time to even comprehend why or how or when it happened.

After school’s finished, Louis checks off a long-standing personal goal by getting an official job bagging groceries at the supermarket down the street from his neighborhood. His manager schedules him for lots of hours which satisfies him, but the big problem is that the times are always inconsistent. Sometimes he works in the mornings and sometimes he works in the afternoons; sometimes he works late at night. Sometimes he works in the evening and then is scheduled for the morning the very next day, and with him still helping out his elderly neighbors with random chores when he can, the weeks begin to pass by so quickly that it’s strange to him. His summers used to be so long.

It’s just what has to be done to build up his new bank account, though. And to keep James from hassling him all the time, telling him he's stinking up the house and being lazy if he sleeps in past ten.

He still hangs out with his friends in any of the free-time he has, just with different ones than he used to. During the entire months of June and July, Calvin disappears off the face of the earth like he always does when he’s in a relationship, so Louis finds himself spending a lot more time with Stan for once. While Calvin sort of challenges Louis in a way that only Alphas can do with other Alphas, Stan’s just Stan. Louis can relax with him. He finds that the companionship with Stan is ideal: less half-joking/half-serious arguing and more sincere laughing. Together, they’re crude and immature and stupid.

Sometimes Louis’ll come home from work and find Stan already in the house waiting for him, but normally they chill at Stan’s place. Every now and then they even smoke pot in his basement. It gives Louis a feeling that makes him feel less...heavy. He finds he likes it quite a bit.

Louis meets some new friends at work, too. People he normally wouldn’t speak to at school have now become people he looks forward to sharing shifts with. It’s sort of weird how it’s happened that way, but Louis learned that with theater this year, too. All his old acquaintances from soccer and football don’t really speak to him anymore, but the weird theater and visual arts kids text him non-stop these day and he’s grown to enjoy them.

Then, of course, there’s Harry. Of course.

Harry himself is actually Louis’ major excuse, believe it or not. In certain ways it’s hard to sit back and think about serious things when he’s so wrapped up in the actual doing of them, in the actual feeling of them, of being so blissfully content and weightless and...infatuated. In a way, it’s almost a good thing Louis’s been keeping so busy otherwise. His mind’s been so preoccupied with Harry that he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if his body weren’t literally exhausted from everything else.

On days when he isn’t working, doing something else for his neighbors, dragged out to the skate-park by Stan, or stuck babysitting the kids (which just means laying on the couch watching Disney movies with all of them), Louis showers two times, styles his hair, and leaves the house in his BMW to go pick Harry up. There’s a lot of driving around places and sitting around places and hanging around places, and Louis loves it. He doesn’t know how he managed to make it an entire summer without Harry at all.

Now that Louis knows that Gemma had been purposefully hiding his gift-giving from the past entire year, and now that Louis knows that Gemma knows that he knows, he and Gemma have an unspoken.... _something_ between them. And Louis can’t even be angry with her. As an Alpha, he can kind of understand. Not fully, but a little. She’s being protective over her little brother. Louis guesses he’ll be the same way once Lottie starts dating--or maybe even courting--but he always figured he maybe had a bit more of an in with the Styles family. You know, having known them for almost his entire life and all.

At least Anne is still always nice when Louis stops by the house. Besides staring at Louis a little too long when he’s inside waiting on Harry to get ready, she’s welcoming and kind, just the way she’s been since Louis was a foot-and-a-half tall. It’s a known-but-untalked-about-thing that they’re sneaking around under Des’s nose. Hopefully she realizes he’s being respectful.

He and Anne talk. Louis tells her about the family since she doesn’t come by for visits anymore. He says that his mom wanted him to say hi. She tells him to say hi back.

Days go by for Louis much in this fashion. Work, friends, family, Harry--repeat. Waking up at weird hours and staying up ‘til weirder ones, so much happens all at once that Louis almost can’t keep up. The occasional times he smokes (definitely not in Harry’s presence) is the only thing that slows it down for him again.

Still, it’s crazy that it takes so long for him to realize it. Considering it’s the one thing he thinks about almost non-stop.

It’s a hot August day. Louis’s tan from his vacation to Ocean City last week and Harry’s got color on his skin, too. He’s happy. Louis can feel it. By his feet are his change-of-clothes and between his teeth is the straw to his smoothie that Louis’s just bought him. Harry smiles in the passenger seat of the car as Louis goes on and on about even-he-doesn’t-know-what, but it’s making Harry cackle. Louis loves the sound of Harry’s laugh way more than his own voice, so Louis just keeps talking out of his ass as he drives around.

“Then what happened?”

“He got stuck, what d’you think?” Louis laughs. “Stan’s fat ass can't get through a doggy door. Not even close.”

Harry makes a weird noise and covers his mouth, grinning. “That’s so mean. He’s not fat.”

“Pleasantly plump?”

Harry shakes his head. “So mean,” he says, shoulders still quaking.

“Just a joke. And actually, I’m wrong. He’s a dumb ass, not a fat ass.” Louis pats his lower belly. “And I need to lay off the burgers myself, so.”

Harry mumbles something, but Louis changes the topic. He drives out to the river, still joking back-and-forth with Harry until he hears the sound of his tires crunching gravel. There’s a little spot Harry showed him that’s unpopular, quiet, and secluded from fishermen and children skimming pebbles (probably because it’s disgustingly dirty with the stench of geese and pollution), and like always, they change into their swim-trunks and go in the water.

They immediately swim towards an ancient tree on the far side of the river where the water’s deep, the tree that’s sort of become theirs. After lifting themselves up some rocks on the bank, they climb the trunk of the tree and walk out on the one big branch that juts out across half of the entire river. Only taking one look at each other, together they grab out for the frayed rope hanging there, swing until they can’t any longer, and fall down, filling the air with shouts and flailing hands and feet. When they come back up for air, Harry’s wet hair is down to his nose, and he shakes it like a dog while grinning at Louis.

“Let’s do it again!”

And they do. Louis always lets Harry go ahead of him in case he slips.

The first time Harry showed Louis this area, Louis was surprised when Harry climbed the tree and swung from the rope all on his own, some weird voice in his head worrying of the danger, but he’s gotten used to it now. They clearly even swing from the rope at the same time. Still completely dangerous, but exhilarating.

Back in the water again, they swim until they’re tired and then lay on their backs to look up at the sky, floating.

The sun’s gone back behind the trees. A general smell of damp murkiness is in the air. Every now and then, there’s some splashing from their hands and feet hitting the water as they try not to sink. When Harry starts moving a lot more than Louis, Louis knows he’s now rolling around on top of the water like an otter because that’s one of his favorite things to do. Everything’s relatively normal, and Louis’ mind is blank, thinking of nothing in particular but just being content.

It’s when Harry suddenly squeaks in excitement that Louis lifts his head, looks at Harry, and--that’s it. That’s his moment. Instead of choirs singing, though, there’s some faraway ducks quacking and the same sound of water streaming over rocks that there’s been all evening, and that’s it. That’s his moment when he finally realizes. Harry’s found an animal on a rock and is staring at it in maternal delight, and it’s that moment that it hits Louis--like, slams into his body--that Harry’s going to be his actual mate someday.

Harry’s going to be his mate. He’s going to be the one who Louis’s with all the time one day. One day Louis’ll be able to live with him and do family things with him and provide for him, and they’ll be actual mates. It’s a thing. It’s a real life thing. Somehow it had all appeared to be just an idea for the longest time, some faraway goal, but it’s not anymore. It’s here. Harry’s going to high school in just a few weeks. That means Louis can actually start acting on it soon.

Feeling like time has stopped, memories and pictures go through Louis’ head like a movie montage. All the times he’s just sat and watched Harry do stuff--like his homework, staring at a book and then writing stuff down on a piece of paper beside it, or singing along to old dad-songs on the radio when he thinks Louis isn’t paying attention, or laughing around the straw to a banana smoothie--it’s _this_ that does it for Louis. It’s Harry finding and talking to a baby frog on a rock in the middle of a dirty river.

“You’re so little, yes you are,” Harry speaks to it, petting its back. Petting its back.

Under the water, Louis finds his footing on the squishy ground full of sticks and walks the best he can until he’s right beside Harry. He looks down at the little creature along with Harry--or tries to, at least. He’s mostly watching Harry’s soft face.

As he gets closer to Harry, he casually puts a hand on his back before sliding it to his waist, at the little dip between his ribs and hip. It tickles Harry inadvertently, but instead of moving his hand away, Louis just changes the place he’s touching, landing his fingers on Harry’s actual hip instead, and he feels Harry’s heart rate accelerate.

It’s more than Louis’d usually do, but he’s gotten ballsier lately, even blatantly scent-marking Harry on the days they see each other. He's surprised Harry’d even taken his shirt off today in the first place because normally he swims with it still on, so maybe he’s relishing all the exposed skin a little bit, too. Plus the water’s up to Harry’s ribs, and maybe it’s a little easier to do this kind of thing when neither of them can actually see it.

He’ll have to get over that soon. With the thought of bonding Harry more of a reality than a fantasy now, Louis knows he needs to step up to the plate and start acting like an actual mate now. When Harry looks at him with a soft and open face, Louis’s terrified with the thought of fucking it all up.

“Did you want to take it with us?” Louis asks. They have to be going soon. Harry has a curfew.

“No way.” Harry shakes his head. “What about his mom? What if she comes looking for him? She’s probably lost him and now she’s off somewhere worried. That would be awful to take a baby away from his mom, Louis.”

And the feelings just intensify.

“You’re right.” Louis’ voice squeaks stupidly, and he clears it, removing his hand from Harry’s hip. “And you could get warts.”

“But I’ve already touched it,” Harry laughs. “I might have them already, then.”

“Oh, no.” Louis seriously takes Harry’s hand and lifts it. “Let me inspect it.”

Harry grins as Louis intently rakes his eyes over the skin on Harry’s hand, laughing when Louis lifts the hand up to his face.

“Am I gonna die?”

Harry’s hand is directly before Louis’ face. Harry had touched the frog with the pads of his fingers, not the back of his hand. The skin there is pretty and smooth under Louis’ own fingers. There’s something running through his mind about a frog and a prince or something like that, and he impulsively kisses Harry’s hand before lowering it again. “I think you’re good.”

With both of their hands now under the water again, Louis and Harry stand side-by-side and look at each other before Harry quickly turns back to the rock.

“Oh, he’s gone already,” Harry discovers. And Louis chickens out again.

 

* * *

 

  
**9th/11th Grade, 14 and 16**

  
Freshman. He's a freshman now. Harry’s officially in high school.

Not wanting to appear over-needy about being in the same school as Louis, he hides his true excitement about going to high school from everybody during the last few weeks of summer and the first few weeks of actual school.

“So how was your summer?” Harry asks Will on the bus during the very first morning of their very first day of school. He realizes selfishly that he’s barely seen him over the break at all. He’d spent much of it going back and forth to Pennsylvania, and Will spent much of it going back and forth to Calvin’s house.

Will just shrugs. “Good, I guess. Band camp was a blast. How ‘bout you?”

“Okay.” Harry shrugs, as well, and makes a little noise in his throat like “Meh.”

“If you were so bored,” Will replies, “I did invite you out, like, ten times, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says. “And no offense, really, but you know I don’t like feeling like the third wheel all the time. The first two times were bad enough.”

Will winces. He knows that Harry’s speaking about going to the movies with them and having to listen to smacking lips during any moment of silence in the film. And going to Calvin’s house with Will only to be deserted within five minutes when Will had gone upstairs with Calvin.

“You wouldn’t’ve been the third wheel every time I invited you out. I didn’t do everything with Cal this summer,” he says, rolling his eyes. As everyone stands up when the bus pulls up to the front of the school, he says, “Well, I sort of did, but. Not anymore.”

“What?”

Will doesn’t respond. Everyone files off the bus and walks in the direction of a big set of doors at the front of the school, and Harry looks around while silently walking beside Will.

The school is big. It’s mostly all brick, except for the very front of it. For about fifty feet, the front of the school is floor-to-ceiling windows, showing the inside halls of all three stories. Lots of trees and pretty plants grow outside, and the first thing to be seen when Harry walks in the entryway is a long, glass cabinet filled with sports plaques, banners, and trophies. Harry suddenly feels small. It’s a big school with many, many people in it. Including Louis. Somewhere.

Harry and Will immediately find Zayn waiting for them on a bench by the administrative offices, and together, they walk to the nearby cafeteria and find a spot that they don’t think anyone else has already claimed. Without meaning to, Harry nervously bounces his leg up and down under the table.

“Freshmen, boys,” Will says happily, looking at Harry and Zayn excitedly once they’ve sat down.

“Yippee,” Zayn mutters.

“So what were you talking about with you and Calvin?” Harry asks immediately. He reaches in his backpack and takes out a granola bar he’d packed for breakfast.

“Oh. We broke up last week,” Will answers, sighing, pulling an apple out of his own backpack. “If you wanna call it that.”

Harry and Zayn genuinely gasp. Harry always thought they got along really well. That it was serious.

“Did you really?” Zayn asks.

“He's just really immature,” Will just says, shrugging, and Harry knows then that the breakup was initiated by Will and not Calvin. That makes him feel a little better. “I’m looking for my future mate here, not just playing the field. Well, I am playing the field, but I’m playing it to find a mate. He’s not it.”

As Will continues speaking, Harry’s distracted by a new horde of people entering the school by way of the large set of double-doors Harry’s learned must be the only allowable entrance in the mornings. He spots Niall. He’s walking in with two other blonde Alphas who are all wearing big, knitted sweaters even though it’s September, and their hair is shaggy and thick, like it hasn't been brushed in days.

Harry again turns to Will and Zayn, talking back and forth together. He assesses them.

Zayn’s just as put-together as he always is, flawless and wrinkle-free with perfect hair. The only thing that’s off about him is his eyes, squinty and puffy like he didn’t get enough sleep last night. Then there’s Will. Will’s always made his outfits just edgy enough to be cool but never appearing like he’s tried too hard to make it look that way. The only way Harry can tell he actually puts an effort into his appearance is that he’s started to straighten his hair on purpose lately. And Harry himself still has a lot of his old collared shirts from middle school, so that’s mainly what he sticks to wearing. His hair is the normal mop of different-lengthed waves. Now with Niall adopting this stoner/I-don’t-care look now, Harry’s sure that if they were all to be seen together at any point in time this year, they sure would be a funny-looking group.

Niall doesn't notice when Harry lifts his hand up to say hello, but since Harry’s table is tucked away in the corner and is probably hard to see, he doesn’t mind. He turns back to Will and Zayn.

“But, it was fun while it lasted,” Will finishes nonchalantly. “What about you guys?”

“Hm?” Harry asks, quickly turning his head to Will.

“Hm?” Zayn mocks Harry. He’s got a phone now, like everyone else but Harry, and he’s pressing buttons on it with just his thumb while not looking at the other guys. “He’s playing dumb, Will, listen to him.”

Harry blinks stupidly. “What’d’ya mean, I’m playing dumb? I already told him how my summer was. He rides my bus. Unlike you, because you abandoned our neighborhood.” He sticks out his tongue.

“Louis, duh,” Will says, reaching out to break Harry’s granola bar in half.

“Heyyy.”

Will takes a large bite out of it and looks at Harry expectantly. Harry just stares back, and then he turns to look at Zayn. He’s now staring at Harry with the same expression.

“What?” Harry asks, blushing.

Zayn kicks him from under the table. “What’d you do this summer?” he asks, smirking. “I’d love to hear.”

Harry pointedly looks at Zayn. “What’d _you_ do this summer?”

Harry knows Zayn’s been spending more and more time with Liam Payne lately. At first it was just sort of for fun, but now it’s almost like they’re courting. Almost. If secret-courting were a thing. Zayn went to all of Liam’s baseball games last year, and there were like a zillion, and Harry knows that they hang out on the weekends, too. But still, Zayn won’t give anything away.

“Homework,” Zayn replies. “Reading assignments. Stuff like that.”

Harry rolls his eyes. Teachers don’t assign homework over the summer unless a person was in advanced classes, and freshmen can’t even take advanced classes yet. Zayn’s such a liar.

“How fun. Is that what you were doing on your phone just now? Finishing those up?”

“Shut up,” Zayn says. “Anyways, it’s definitely more fun than creaming my underwear over the same Alpha for, like, what is it? The tenth year in a row now?”

“Well, I can’t help it,” Harry defends, not even denying it. “Sometimes I feel like he likes me, then sometimes I feel like I’m just imagining all of it. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and not--? Not cream my underwear?” he finishes in a whisper, chuckling.

“How can you be imagining that he likes you?” Will asks incredulously. “You two chilled together all summer long. And Calvin said that--”

Harry doesn’t let Will finish. “What did Calvin say?”

“That Louis likes you,” Will finishes, crunching into his apple again.

That sits with Harry for a long time. Until he feels his face get hot. “Sometimes I get it. Sometimes he looks at me like he’s looking at--I don’t know--like, something he really likes. Then other times he looks at me like he’s just mad.”

“Well, that’s weird,” Will comments.

“Louis is weird,” Zayn comments. “He hasn't even kissed--”

“Shut up, Zayn,” Harry mutters, meaning it. He looks around his shoulder towards the door.

“But he gives you gifts, you said--”

Whipping his head back, he says, “Zayn, I know, but that doesn't mean that he--”

“That he what? That he what, Harry? That he's taking care of his omega by buying and giving you gifts? ‘Cause that's exactly what he's doing. That's stuff that mates do.”

Harry groans. “What do you care? I don’t get all in your business with Liam.”

“Because there’s no business to get into,” Zayn responds lazily, but he haughtily sits up straighter as he says it.

Harry can tell he’s lying. Or holding a lot back. His next question is pushed out of mind by what Will says next.

Will snaps his fingers. “You know, if you like him, I should invite him to sit with us at lunch today.”

Harry looks up. “Who?”

“Liam.”

“Liam Payne?” Zayn drops his mouth. “No.”

“What?” Will asks, smirking. “I hung out with him some this summer ‘cause he and Calvin play sports together. He seems nice.”

Harry swears he sees Zayn’s lip pull to the side in a snarl, but he manages to hide it.

He doesn’t hide it from Will, though. “Rawr. Jeez, dude, be more obvious about it. I’m not gonna invite him ‘cause I like him. I want him to bring his other friend, Ashton.”

“Who’s that?” Zayn asks.

“Ashton? That new guy that moved here in April. He was only in school for, like, two months, so not a lot of people know him, but I met him over the summer. He’s from _Australia_.”

“Ew,” Zayn just says. “I do know him. He just moved here and I hear he’s had three different omegas already.”

Will just wags his eyebrows.

“When did you become such a ho?” Harry asks. “You just broke up with Calvin a week ago, you said.”

“I happen to call it being friendly and accommodating to foreigners. I won't meet my mate any other way, will I?”

“And what does Liam have to do with that?” Zayn pipes up.

“Well, it’d be weird to just ask Ashton himself if he wanted to sit with us at lunch. If I ask Liam and Liam just happens to bring him, then it’d all work out, right? You’d get Liam and I'd get Ashton."

“Why would I want Liam to sit with us? I don’t have anything going on with Liam,” Zayn adamantly says.

“If you don’t have anything going on with him,” Harry asks, “what’s it matter if he sits with us or not?”

Zayn stares at Harry, who just innocently stares back while eating his granola bar.

“If Will was here talkin’ about inviting Louis over to sit with us at lunch--which we have right after gym, Harry--would you be cool with that?”

“I mean…” Harry again looks behind his shoulder. He wonders where Louis even is right now. “Well, yeah…”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Well, you don’t have the same situation that I do.”

“Please!” Harry exclaims. He lowers his voice to a hiss and continues, “I’ve liked him since I was old enough to know what a crush is, and he’s never done a thing with me and here you are making fun of me for it because I don’t know what I’m doing wrong? I have no way of knowing what he’s thinking, do I? You, on the other hand--you text Liam all the time, you see him all the time, I know you do, ‘cause when he looks at you he looks like he wants to eat your face--”

“No, he doesn’t,” Zayn argues.

Will interrupts, “You know, it is really hard to figure Alphas out. You guys are right.”

Zayn and Harry are quiet. Everyone looks at each other and takes deep breaths. The mood has become surly.

“I wish I could read minds,” Harry finally says, standing up because he knows they all should be finding their homeroom class by now. Maybe he’ll run into Louis later. “I wish I could just know what the hell I need to do differently.”

“It’s not you,” Zayn says. “It’s him.”

“It’s not,” Harry mutters.

“Aw, guys, cheer up,” Will says awkwardly. “Stop arguing so much. It’s just the first day.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Let’s have a good day.”

Will ends up completely misreading his schedule for the semester. It turns out that he doesn’t even have the same lunch block as Harry and Zayn, so his big plan to invite Liam to the lunch table with the goal of picking on Zayn or flirting with Ashton or whatever fails. Harry doesn’t really feel like talking to Zayn for the rest of the day, but they sit together at lunch anyway, and somehow, mysteriously, Liam and Ashton still find their way over, too. And the next day. And the day after that. Until it becomes a usual occurrence.

Zayn and Liam always quietly chat while eating their lunches side-by-side, and Harry could literally burn from the inside-out from having to be the third-wheel yet again. He does chat with Ashton in order to be polite, casually sneaking in comments about Will and how awesome he is, but the whole situation starts off weird and remains that way. He doesn’t get why this Alpha would want to sit next to him at all when all he does is literally talk about other omegas.

Harry even winds up having his Intro to French class with Ashton, and unfortunately he sits directly behind him. A month into the school year, Harry’s already lost count of the number of notes from Ashton that he’s had to pass to other people. But the times that he’s had to ask Ashton to stop talking so he can hear the teacher is now at a solid forty-three.

 

* * *

 

  
Since he has the evening off work, Louis drives Harry home from school.

He thought it would be easier with Harry at the same school that he is, and yeah, it is, sort of. He’s now learned the hallways they’re in at the same time, the flights of stairs they both use between classes, and when and where Harry is basically most of the day. The problem is actually talking to him for more than a few minutes at a time. That’s all he can work with. They have no classes together or anything. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was hopeful that maybe with Harry’s brilliant mind and his stupid one, maybe one of their classes would’ve aligned. English or something.

If he doesn’t sleep in, he does get to sit with Harry and his friends in the mornings before class, and he sees Harry after school, too, when everyone’s gathered by the trees outside waiting on their buses. On days when Louis doesn’t have to go directly to work, he either stays with Harry or drives him home himself.

Tonight, he takes him to his own house.

Sitting in the same spot at Louis’ desk that he always does when he comes over to do his homework, Harry twirls the office chair back and forth while counting on his fingers and mumbling under his breath. Harry even offers to do Louis homework, but Louis declines. He’s in a pissy mood.

Louis’ room is dim and quiet, just the lamp from the desk lighting the room. Louis has all the other lights off because that’s the way he wants it to be right now. Harry doesn’t seem to mind. He sits on the bed beside Louis when he’s finished.

All of this is the worst.

Louis feels it getting stronger in his bones, in the very marrow. All the time. The need to watch over Harry and make sure he’s safe and happy every single day. He normally satisfies the feeling by making sure that not a day goes by that he doesn’t speak to Harry in school if only for a few minutes, that not a day goes by that he doesn’t give him something or make him smile or help him in some way. That not a day goes by that he doesn’t mark him somehow, even slightly.

Calvin says it’s stalkerish, but it’s a drive within him. It’s a pull that he can’t control. Calvin wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t know what it’s like to be devoted to one omega and one omega only and then suddenly have to watch as that omega falls for someone else.

The fact that Louis never even considered this happening, never even thought about Harry ever possibly wanting someone else-- _fuck_. Fuck. Louis can’t finish the thought.

He never considered that maybe Harry doesn’t want the same things that he himself does, after all. He never--never, ever, ever--considered that Harry maybe Harry wouldn’t want to be his mate one day. Stupidly, he realizes that he’s never talked to Harry about it. Not once. He’s always just assumed.

And he’s assumed wrong. And the thought makes him want to punch through a brick wall.

The only thing keeping him together at the moment is knowing that at least Harry’s still spending time with him outside of school and not that Alpha. At least Harry doesn’t smell like that Alpha. It’s only a matter of time before he does.

It’s been bound to happen.

Louis scoffs out loud, and Harry looks at him curiously. Louis just looks back.

He’s found himself staring at Harry almost all the time these days--especially at his face, but that’s never changed. It’s mostly Harry’s body that Louis finds himself fixating on more often than not. He’s getting older, evening out and growing, and Louis figures it’s no wonder that someone else has noticed. That someone else has figured out what Louis’s known his whole life. That Harry’s perfect.

They’re just friends, though. That’s all. Harry likes another Alpha.

A muffled voice from downstairs hollers, “Louis! Dinner’s ready!” and Louis raises his eyebrows.

“Did you want to stay?” he asks unenthusiastically. He knows the answer.

“I don’t know…”

And Louis drives him home.

 

* * *

 

  
Mid-November, school is in full-swing. The work from all Harry’s classes has finally stopped being easy and has started to pile up. Still, at hearing yet another assignment being made in French class, a jovial and round face turns around and grins at Harry. “Guess we’re partners.”

“Guess so,” Harry mutters. The way this normally works is that whenever he’s partnered with an Alpha, he ends up doing all the work, so he already opens his textbook and starts reading what their assignment is.

Ashton reads along. “You wanna do one through five and I can do six-to-ten?”

Harry looks up from his book to squint his eyes at Ashton. “What?”

“Did you want to do the other half then? I don’t care.”

“You’re splitting the work with me?”

“We’re partners…” he explains like Harry’s stupid, and Harry blinks a few times at the way his voice sounds saying that word.

“Right.” He goes back to writing his name and date on his paper, and then he stops suddenly. “Yes. Yes, we can do it like that. I’ll do the first half.”

“Okay....”

While they work together, there’s the normal weird, uncomfortable small-talk between the two of them until Ashton truly and genuinely surprises Harry by asking, “So I hear you’ve been trying to attract a mate, yeah? How’s that been going?”

Harry stops writing. “I--I’m--What?”

Ashton holds his hands up innocently before Harry can finish stuttering. “It's cool. Will already told me.”

Harry squints his eyes. He swallows the suddenly dry saliva in his mouth. “Will told you... _what_ exactly?”

“That you’re looking for, like, a mate but that you need practice,” he says, laughing. His accent is still hard for Harry to understand, and he also speaks very quickly, so Harry has a difficult time keeping up. “Someone to help you out, like me.”

Once he does comprehend what Ashton’s saying, Harry starts to panic. Will has not done this. Will has not gone and, like, put Harry out there for this guy--this guy who’s been with three other omegas not even in a full year--to--to what? To practice with? All because Will’s under some impression that Harry needs to play the field like he does or some shit?

“Not mate-mate practice, but friend-mate practice,” Ashton clarifies. He smiles knowingly. “Someone to teach you, like. I could show you a thing or two about how to act, you know. What to do. Stuff like that. Will just said you’re too shy to ask me yourself.”

“Oh he did, did he.” Harry frowns. Even if his friend--and he thinks the word is very loose now--did say that, Harry has no clue why this random guy who just moved here from Australia not even a year ago would want to do that with someone who he’s just met a few months ago. It seems like a lot of work.

“Don’t worry. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I get how it is. I’ve gone out with a lot of omegas. I know how some of you are real impatient about mating, so I think it’s brilliant to learn all the stuff before it’s too late.”

Harry shakes his head and goes back to conjugating his verbs. “Look, I’m very...um.” He thinks. “I'm very grateful that you would...consider doing that for me, teaching me or whatever, but I don't really think--”

“I'm still learning how it is in America, but where I'm from it’s not so different. My town is so small, though, that everyone usually mates around age ten or eleven. So it’s just fascinating to me that people here are still unsure about who their mates even are by our age.”

"Really?” Harry’s jaw drops.

“Really, what?”

“You really mate by ten?”

“Mmhm,” Ashton answers easily. “Some people.”

“Wow, that's crazy. But what if you don't even know enough people to like someone by then? What if you meet someone you like better when you're older?”

“I mean. You wouldn’t mate with someone unless you were sure. But the place I'm from doesn't have a lot of people, so we're all brought up together from a young age. You just sort of know when you know. Maybe it helps ‘cause you know there aren’t any other options,” he finishes, laughing.

“Here it's not like that,” Harry informs, shaking his head. “So many people move away and move into this town that there’s always lots of new people. My friend, W--one of my friends, I mean...Well, lots of people, actually, date lots of different people before they find out who their mate is.”

“I know.” Ashton’s voice is weird when he adds, “Very well.”

Harry’s face turns red. They begin working together again. Their teacher informs the class they have ten more minutes until they have to turn in their papers.

"So what exactly was Will talking about?” Ashton finally asks when he finishes the last question he was assigned. Harry immediately takes his paper to look it over.

Harry starts editing Ashton’s sentences and hasn’t realized Ashton’s said anything until he’s kicked from under the table. “Oww. What’d you say?”

“What did you want to know about? Like, just how to make Alphas want to mate you?”

Harry frowns. “Look, I really appreciate the thought of you--helping me, I guess, but I don’t think I’m--I mean, it's really okay. You don't have to do that.”

“I wouldn't be doing anything. Just talking. I do that anyway, don't I?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers, giving up. “Yeah, you do.”

The rest of the day can’t go by any slower, and Harry can’t get home fast enough. He runs off the bus and into his kitchen, sits on the stool that’s there under the phone hanging on the wall, and dials Will’s number.

“Well, hello there, Mister Lover B--”

“Are you freakin’ serious?” Harry hisses into the phone before Will can even finish his greeting. “You told him I need help attracting a mate? D’you realize how pathetic that makes me sound?! And, not to mention--”

“How is that pathetic when it’s the truth?”

Harry drops his mouth in insult, for the first time in his life actually angry at his friend. First Zayn and now Will. “This is ridiculous.”

“Harry, come on!”

Harry groans. “Come on, what?”

"You literally just said the other day you wish you had a way to read Alpha’s minds. What could be better than having an actual Alpha help you out? Like a personal Alpha mind-reader.”

“I mean,” Harry grumbles, “it’s not an awful idea, but not Ashton! Maybe someone I actually can stand being around, someone like Niall.”

“Niall! Like he knows the first thing about mating. He’s too busy farting and playing video games in some gross dude’s basement all day to even try to find a mate. And his name is _Niall_.”

Harry wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. Because he’s mad. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, Harry...You...You know. You deserve to be happy. And Ashton could help you. He’s really smart. And he’s really funny, too. We have two classes together this year, you know, did I ever tell you? He’s a really nice guy, I swear.”

“You’ve been planning this with him?!”

Will just continues, “He'll get you out of this shitty mood you’ve been in for the past two years, I know it. And hopefully he can help with the Louis thing. Which is why you’ve been in the shitty mood in the first place, so. Yeah.”

Harry groans. “I didn’t even mean it when I said that I--”

“You said he still hasn't kissed you?” Will interrupts.

Harry closes his eyes and sighs. “No.”

Will makes a little noise but doesn’t say anything further, and Harry’s tired of explaining any of this to him, so he stays quiet, too.

   
___________________________

 

Same scene, different night. Harry’s just finished his homework, and he’s on Louis’ bed now. Laying, not sitting. It’s colder outside, so there’s a small blanket over his feet.

Louis has to stretch. He uses the opportunity to pull up the blanket and get a little closer to Harry.

They’re not doing anything, just laying there. What if they were doing something, though? What if Louis pushed Harry back on the bed right now and dropped his face down until he was a breath away from Harry, and then what if he kissed him until he couldn’t stop?

Would that be so awful of him to do? To act out his every fantasy with Harry right now?

" _Wait for permission,”_ his uncles and mother have always said. Fuck it. His sweaty hands burn and itch with the desire to snap that Alpha’s neck and then shove off all of Harry’s clothes.

He just doesn’t understand why Harry doesn’t smell like that guy more. Louis marks Harry every day, so he knows to fucking back off if he wanted to fucking try, but Louis still sees him in school with Harry all the time. Talking together. Conspiring together. The word their own parents used to use about him and Harry. Back when they were young.

Louis’s found out the Alpha’s name is Ashton. He plays Louis’ old position on the football team.

Tonight, Louis’s rubbed all the exposed areas of Harry’s skin so much that it’s pretty plausible that Anne will think something serious has happened when Harry went home that night--something that Louis’s generally pretty careful about--but tonight, he doesn’t care. He wants to make him smell so much like him that it’s maybe unhealthy.

He wants to rub against Harry's body, honestly.

But he can’t think of Harry like that right now. He’s too close to him for it to be safe. Physically, he’s too close--his arm around Harry, almost snuggling him to his body, fuck that other guy--but he’s too close to his rut, too. He knows he is. Too close for it to be anything but dangerous to try to kiss him now.

There’s always some fucking reason. He hates everything.

Harry’s speaking quietly, and Louis has no clue what he’s talking about. The words are barely cutting through the buzzing thoughts in his head, and he lazily trails his eyes to Harry’s no-longer-babyish face, at his soft and puffy moving lips, and when Harry stops speaking, Louis has no clue what he’s said.

"Are you okay?” Harry finally asks after some time has passed.

“Yeah,” Louis answers, stretching against Harry’s body again. “‘M fine.”

“Is it something going on at school?”

He doesn’t even convince himself, so of course he doesn’t convince Harry. “Is what something going on at school?”

“Your...mood,” Harry answers quietly.

Louis shakes his head.

“Is it your job? Is it stressing you out?”

Louis shakes his head again.

“Oh. My dad always used to come home saying he’s stressed out over work...”

Louis chuckles, but it’s not from genuine amusement. “My job isn’t hard enough for me to come home stressed out over. I take things out of boxes and put them on shelves. And sometimes, if I’m lucky, I put those things in bags. And then if I’m really lucky, I take those bags out to people’s cars.”

Harry's quiet when he responds. “I was just asking.”

“‘S jussta joke, Haz,” Louis mumbles in a bit of a slur.

“Oh. Well, did you want me to call my mom to see if--”

“No.”

“Oh.” Harry sits up a little. “Do you want me to just go?”

“No.” Louis has his eyes closed, and he just pulls Harry back to his side. “Sorry I’m being a dick. I feel like shit.”

“Are you getting sick? You never get sick.”

Louis chooses to be blunt. “My rut’s due.”

“Oh.” Harry clears his throat and squirms away a little to give himself more room to breathe. They're so close it's becoming a little bit stifling, and Louis loves it. He wants nothing more than to breathe in air and smell nothing but Harry, to smell nothing but Harry smelling like him. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s always saying that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

Harry clears his throat. “How long does it normally last?”

“My rut?” Louis rubs his eyes with his fingers like he’s sleepy. “A few days, normally. Not long.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Louis says. He realizes this is a topic they don't discuss. Their heat cycles. Louis stays far away from the topic, actually. As far away as he can. Especially about his own.

Anyway, he’s not been completely honest to Harry. His rut may only take two or three days, but those two or three days feel never-ending when he’s actually in the throes of it. He literally spends the entire two-day period doing nothing but napping and jacking off to the few copies of Wet ‘N Wicked he and Cal had managed to steal from the off-limit magazine boxes in convenience stores throughout the years. With all the staples loose and the pages of the brunettes all torn and sticky, they’re hard to even open anymore, but he keeps them under his mattress anyway.

He doesn’t know why he even hasn’t thrown them away. Not when there’s something--someone--so much better right beside him. Harry’s moved away a little bit more, so Louis just gets closer again.

“I have my Christmas concert this Friday,” Harry says quietly, “and I was gonna say that if you wanted to come... “ He trails off.  
  
Louis’ eyes travel Harry’s form. He’s wearing jeans and the same hoodie he’s had on all week. His wardrobe is pretty predictable, and Louis loves everything he wears. Sometimes he wears khakis, and sometimes he wears jeans. Mostly he’ll wear graphic t-shirts but on some days he’ll wear really adorable collared-shirts that draw attention to his neck and make Louis want to bite it, and Louis thinks about maybe buying some more for him for Christmas, but maybe that’d be overboard. He’s already bought a pair of jeans for him. Jeans that he knows Harry’s ass will look good in.

His ass. Louis could honestly say that so far in his life he’s managed to spend a societally acceptable amount of time thinking about Harry’s ass. It might have taken a monumental effort to do only that, but he’s managed to do it.

...Now, though. Now, he’s obsessed with it. He’s constantly having to drag his eyes away from it. His hands itch to touch it. Especially now, watching Harry stand up beside the bed, he wants to get on his knees behind Harry and pull his jeans down and just stare. Before doing much, much more.

He groans while he continues to stare. He stares so long that he doesn’t even realize that the reason he’s seeing Harry’s ass in the first place is because Harry’s walking away from him, not showing off for him, and his eyes snap up to Harry’s face once he realizes this.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” Harry answers quietly.

Louis furrows his eyebrows and sits up roughly. “Why do you always do that?”

“Because...that’s where I live.”

“Stay here. Eat with me.”

“I don’t think I can tonight.”

“Why not?”

“You know why--”

“Fuck him,” Louis interjects, maybe too meanly. “Just spend the night here. It’s not a school night. I’ll take you home in the--”

“I don’t think your mom would be cool with that. ...Or mine.”

“Fuck it all, then.” Louis slams his body back to the mattress, pulls up the covers on his hot body, and gruffly turns away from Harry. “Fuck it all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Merry Christmas?


	13. counted all my mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I'm so happy that you all have commented and seem to enjoy the story. It really makes me happy to read what everyone's thoughts are. I only worry that some people are getting impatient (with the speed of the affair of things), and if that's the case, just know that I do have a lot written/planned. It will just take some time to tweak and post, but my updates aren't usually that far apart! Thanks for your patience and support!!

“It’s the absolute worst getting your heat in the middle of the night,” Will complains at breakfast. It's the first day back at school following Christmas break, and he'd kept his head on Harry’s shoulder for the entire bus ride there. Now he’s resting it on the cafeteria table. “I've been tired for a whole week ‘cause I can't catch up on my sleep.”

“That sucks. Having it happen in school is probably worse, though,” Zayn comments. “But I feel you. Waking up at night all hot like that...” He makes a sympathetic face.

“At least it’s been cold outside,” Harry offers, attempting optimism. “You can just open a window with the weather and all. Cool yourself off."

“And have a whole neighborhood of Alphas sniffing around outside my window?” Will huffs. “No, thank you.”

Harry lightly nudges Will’s arm. “Isn’t that what you want, though?"

“I just want one.” Will makes a small groaning noise. “One Alpha. One Alpha to make my suffering end. I don’t want to have to do it all alone anymore.”

While Zayn just looks amused, Harry’s eyebrows come together in sympathy. He puts his hand on Will’s back and changes the topic to their vacation and what everyone got into, and that makes for a nice conversation. Over the break, there’d been two big snowstorms totaling about a foot of snow altogether, and Harry had a blast. He loves snow. Some people he knows always get upset when there’s snow during a time when everyone’s already out of school, but Harry’s always thought it’s magical to wake up to snow on Christmas morning. He and his friends share stories of sledding and igloos and snowball fights right until Louis approaches the table, putting his hand in Harry’s hair to ruffle it and signal his presence, and it’s then that everyone goes silent.

Louis pulls a chair from a nearby table and scoots it close to Harry. Sitting down, he chuckles. “Where’s the vibe? I’m not that scary, am I?”

Fixing his hair with one hand, Harry pinches his fingers together with his other while Zayn rolls his eyes. “Lil’ bit.”

Harry’s just playing, but there’s a little bit of truth there. He’s learned how intense Louis can get now, especially close to his ruts. It brings about a shameful excitement within Harry that he can’t explain or control. He just knows he wants to be around Louis always.

Luckily, Louis does this often--sits with him in the morning, at least for about ten minutes or so before the bell rings--so Harry doesn’t know why it’s always so special to him, like he can feel his heart skip in glee inside his chest, but it is. Louis’s just eating a poptart beside him, but Harry can’t stop smiling. Wearing sweatpants, a dark hoodie, and a beanie, Louis’ look just magnetizes Harry, and on the inside, he wonders if people who didn’t know them would look at them and think they were mates because of how close they’re sitting. They chat for a few moments until the bell loudly rings, and a large noise of chairs scraping the floor echoes throughout the room. There’s commotion as all the students in the cafeteria get their backpacks together and put their breakfast trays away.

“Oh, hey, Will,” Louis suddenly says, standing up with the rest of Harry’s friends. He reaches into his coat and finds a small, folded piece of paper. Holding it out to Will, he says, “Here. This is from Cal.”

Will turns his nose up. “Tell him he can keep it.”

“Fine by me.” Louis pockets the note. “Told him I’m not his messenger, anyway.”

Harry watches the exchange in confusion until Louis looks to him like nothing had even happened.

“Okay, um,” Harry mumbles. “I’ll see you after school, I guess?”

“Yeah,” Louis agrees, nodding. “I’ll wait for you outside. The normal spot.” He gives a collective wave to the group and walks away, and as Harry stares at him leave, he sees Louis turn to look over his shoulder. He waves again at just Harry, and Harry waves back, tucking some of his hair behind his ear after he does so.

Beside Harry, Zayn and Will barely contain their laughter.

“Why is that funny?” Harry mumbles, face red.

As everyone starts walking together in the opposite direction, Will shakes his head, smiling. “You two are so cute. If only you knew how to flirt back, little Hazzie.”

“That’s not what he calls me,” Harry retorts. “And _anyway--_ ”  He knows Zayn won’t speak about Liam, but Harry gives him a look anyway. He’s unsure if his suspicion of them dating is even true because Zayn never smells like Liam, not even after sitting next to him at lunch for half the year, so he chooses to round on Will instead. “What’s going on with Calvin you’re not telling us?”

“He wants to get back together, and I don’t,” Will replies easily. “There’s nothing more to tell.”

“Well,” Harry starts. He can’t think of anything else to say, so he shuts his mouth.

“How’s the stuff with Ashton going?” Will asks once they’re all up on the second floor. “You said you were open to getting advice from him or whatever. Any luck?”

Harry considers the question. He shrugs. “I think he just likes to hear himself talk.”

That may be the understatement of the year, Harry thinks.

Today’s a day that Louis doesn’t have to work after school, and on days like these, Harry tries to finish his homework before school’s even out because otherwise he’s stuck doing it at Louis’ house like a nerd. So during lunchtime, Harry takes out any homework that’s already been assigned in his morning classes, but unfortunately, he almost always finds it hard to concentrate because of how much Ashton talks.

It’s become impossible to escape Ashton’s “tutoring,” especially now that Liam and Zayn are so up one another's asses that they only talk to each other at the table, but part of Harry doesn’t really mind. He’d be all alone otherwise. The third-wheel like he was with Will.

“So.” Ashton wiggles a little on his spot on the bench beside Harry, and he and Harry both begin to eat side-by-side.

“So,” Harry repeats after some time has passed. In front of him, Zayn has his body completely turned towards Liam and has totally neglected his lunch. They don’t even look like they’re speaking, just staring at one another intensely, and Harry almost chokes on his food from the way it looks.

Ashton shakes him out of his thoughts. “You have a good Christmas?”

Harry thinks back on the gift he’d made for Louis for his birthday. He wasn’t sure if a picture of the two of them together when they were younger was a good idea or just weird. “Yeah. You?”

“Not bad. It’s colder than what I’m used to for Christmas, but it was still good.”

It’s quiet after that, and as Harry continues chewing his food, he considers taking out his abandoned homework. He almost thinks it’d be rude to do that, but with the way both Zayn and Liam have practically been ignoring Harry and Ashton for _months_ , Harry doesn’t think it really would be. Ashton seems to be a pretty carefree Alpha. Harry thinks that he and Niall would get along really well. Whenever Niall squats at the table on his way to another class, Harry’s never gotten the chance to introduce the two of them.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry drops his fork and turns his head to Ashton. “Why do you keep sitting here?”

“What do you mean?”

Harry speaks with his eyes, looking at Liam and Zayn. “...And the rest of the football team sits back there,” he explains, gesturing to the very back of the cafeteria with his head. “Why aren’t you with them instead?”

“I see ‘em all the time,” Ashton answers, shrugging. He grins. “Are you tryin’ to kick me out? I’m not allowed at your table anymore?”

“No, but...wouldn’t you rather be with them, though? The football team?"

“And miss all the fun you and me have together?” Ashton asks. “Nah. And anyway, I’ve been learning useful stuff from you. Think I might put it to use soon.”

Harry thinks about the homework that he sometimes helps Ashton with. “What, you goin’ to France or somethin’?”

“No, idiot,” Ashton replies. “Like, same stuff as you’re learning from me. But we’ll see. I think I have ‘em all figured out now..”

“Have who figured out?”

Ashton doesn’t answer. He has a large amount of food in his mouth.

“Are you talking about omegas?” Harry clarifies. When Ashton nods his head, Harry goes on, “It’s taken you this long?”

“Be quiet,” Ashton says, chuckling. “American omegas are complicated. It’s a lot different here. The things that you tell me sometimes, it’s like you all--” He shrugs. “You’re different.”

“So...question. Are you against dating Betas or Alphas or something?” Harry asks. “You only want omegas?”

“Not necessarily, but--well...an Alpha and omega are like the cream of the crop, yeah?” Ashton replies, and he pushes his tray away from himself a bit.

Inside, Harry groans. He knows he’s done it now. He’s opened up a huge can of worms. All he has to do is look at the way Ashton turns his body to him in excitement, talking with his hands out in front of his body, and he rolls his eyes right in Ashton’s face.

“Like--an _Alpha_ and _omega,_ ” Ashton goes on. “They belong together. There are plenty of Alphas who’ll date Betas or maybe even other Alphas, I guess, and that’s fine with me, you know, but they all really want omegas if you ask them to tell the truth. So, for you as an omega, the goal is to stick out as much as possible from all the other omegas the Alphas have got their eyes on.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Harry dully replies, and for the sake of being stubborn, adds, “but I don’t think that’s really accurate. Alphas only liking omegas. I know lots of--”

Ashton doesn’t get mad. In fact, he doesn't even listen to Harry. He keeps going on, now in his I’m-Going-To-Teach-You-Something-To-Attract-A-Mate-Here mode, “Ya got your old-fashioned Alphas---They’re the ones who’re gonna want to be the ones who have the jobs and expect the omegas to stay at home raising the kids and stuff. Very traditional. Like, they’re into obedience and punishments and all of that. Then there’s the more laid-back ones who don’t mind omegas working but still might just want them to work part-time or something so they'll still be home when they themselves get off work, you know? That’s more how it is in Australia. And then I guess there are lots of Alphas in between those types. I've never met one who lets the omega work more or make more decisions than they themselves do, though. We all have that in common. ‘Cause we’re Alphas. So, once you sort of find out what type of Alpha you’re workin’ with, that’ll help. You can kinda categorize ‘em, and then you’ll know the way their mind will think of things and stuff so you can change how you are around them.”

“Well, I’m not changing who I am for--”

“Another thing that you should know as an omega is that Alphas compete for who we want. And what we want. And we always get what we want.”

“Right…Competition,” Harry repeats, nodding seriously. “And how do you Alphas do that?”

“Besides from actual fighting, you mean?”

Harry shrugs. “You’ll tell me if there’s any other way, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well, fighting’s sort of old-school, anyway. Not really accepted in society anymore.”

“Not here,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Alphas fight all the time here, haven’t you noticed?”

Ashton shakes his head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh,” Harry corrects. He folds his arms. “I’m starting to get the feeling you’re an awful person for this job. You don’t know American customs, but you’re trying to ‘teach’ me all this stupid stuff that’s not helpful.” With any other Alpha, Harry would be seriously afraid he’d be yelled at for talking in such a way, but he’s learned he can get away with it with Ashton.

“It _would_ be helpful, “Ashton argues, “if you’d _listen_.”

“But why would I listen if you’re wrong? You just said fighting is something that’s not accepted in society. And it happens all the time. There are fights here maybe every week. And then on TV--”

“Alpha fights?”

Harry nods. “Preston and Aiden got suspended for, like, a whole week before Christmas break ‘cause Preston broke Aiden’s nose.”

“Over an omega?”

Harry shrugs. “Knowing them, probably.”

“Well, I’d still say it’s not accepted in society. That’s why they were suspended. There are rules that they broke.” Ashton puts a finger in the air. “And I know you’re about to say, ‘Well, if Alphas get what they want, then why are there rules at all?’ or whatever it is you whine to me about, and yes, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean we can just use violence to get our way. There’d be total anarchy. And omegas would only be with us because they were scared, not ‘cause they really wanted us.”

Harry appreciates this answer but doesn’t let Ashton know.  Ashton goes on eating, and Harry starts contemplating in genuine worry. Louis’s never, like, competed for him. Not that there’s anybody to actually compete _with_ , but… Harry clears his throat. “So, uh. What other ways are there besides violence, then?”

“For Alphas to get what they want? If it’s not outright fighting like that, we’ll do it in small ways,” Ashton answers late, having gone back to finish his food. “A lot of it is silent communication with other Alphas. Pheromones. Eye contact. Body language. Like--don't touch what's mine. In Australia I’ve only ever seen Alphas physically fight, like, five or six times in my entire life.”

Ashton washes down the food in his mouth with milk before going on, “And then other things like flexing our muscles and stuff. Staying close to the omega, touching them and stuff like that. Territorial sort of stuff. ”

“So would you say that an Alpha who isn't really territorial over an omega isn't really _into_ that omega?”

Ashton keeps his lips a straight line. “What’d’you mean?”

“If the Alpha doesn’t, like, seem really Alpha-y. Is that ‘cause they don’t want the omega that much?”

“Er, well...Not necessarily...It’s all different, I guess. But it's really common that we get like that. Most Alphas are gonna show off at first to make the omega know that they’re strong, that they’re the best, that they can do things that other Alphas can’t. And Alphas really, really like praise, ‘cause deep down we’re all sort of insecure, but don’t tell anyone I told you that. That’s why we all love to watch scary movies with you omegas, ‘cause you clutch to us and make us feel like we’re protecting you ‘cause you’re all scared, and it’s hot as shit. But, anyway, what you should start doing is practicing your compliments. I’ve noticed you’re sort of bad at that.”

Harry’s mouth drops. “Excuse me?”

“Just being honest. You come across as kind of stuck-up, like, if I didn’t know you at first.”

“Me? I come across as stuck-up?”

“Yeah,” Ashton laughs.

“I am not stuck up,” Harry argues indignantly. “I am a very nice person.”

“You sort of sit around looking pouty all the time.” Ashton smiles as he says this. “Totally meant in a nice way. It's just what I've noticed.”

“I do not,” Harry still declines. “I smile all the time, thank you. My mom says I have naturally straight teeth.”

“For an omega, though, you never give anyone compliments, though. You gotta do that first if you want to learn how to flirt properly.”

“Well, I don’t do that because--I don't…” Harry shakes his head. He feels stupid justifying his feelings to someone he barely knows. Even after a couple months of this weird _how-to-attract-a-mate_ crap with Ashton going on, he can’t say he _knows_ Ashton. And Ashton certainly can’t say he knows Harry. At least not well enough to say he’s not nice! He’s totally nice. “You don't even know me.”

“I know I don’t know you that well, but what if I was an Alpha you liked who you wanted to _get_ to know, but I wouldn’t want to get to know _you_ because I look at you and see someone who’s clearly not interested in me by their facial expression?”

“Um. Repeat that?”

“The easiest way to get an Alpha’s attention is to be straightforward. Tell an Alpha what you’re thinking. Compliment them.”

“I compliment people all the time. I’m a very nice person. And, just so you know, Will’s the one who told you I’m trying to get an Alpha’s attention, not me. So you can stop all this personal stuff.”

“But you are, though.”

“Are what?”

“Trying to get someone’s attention. Attract a mate.”

“Says who?”

Ashton takes another bite of food. “I can just tell,” he says with his mouth full.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Is this you being nice?”

“I am nice,” Harry maintains with a sigh, “but talking like that sounds stupid. It doesn’t seem...real.”

“Make it real,” Ashton suggests easily.

“If it _was_ real, I’d make it real,” Harry retorts.

“Saying it out loud makes it real. Imagine yourself in a really hot and heavy moment. Like, just you two. So, hey--are you into male or female Alphas?”

“Um.” Harry looks down and shrugs. “Males.”

“Okay, so you’re with the guy, and he smells good, and he looks good, and he’s holding your hand, and you’re just staring at him. Inside, you’re thinking, _‘Oh, my gosh, he’s so hot, and he smells so good, and I want him to kiss me.'_ ”

Ashton’s tried to do an American accent, and Harry cracks up at the way all that sounds. All Ashton does is look at him expectantly. “Well? What would you say to actually get him to kiss you?”

“Um. I don’t know?”

Harry’s blushing now. He actually thinks about this a lot. And he has no idea what to say in the real moment.

He wants to scoff. Like they’ll ever _be_ a real moment like that. All Louis has ever done is maybe put his arm around Harry. And yes, that always feels the absolute _greatest,_ but Harry wants more. He can’t lie. He wants more. Besides the very first time when he straight-up asked Louis to kiss him, Louis hasn’t done anything. Hasn’t even tried to do anything. And Harry has no other excuses to come up with that would make Louis want to do it again, not if Louis himself didn’t want it. And Harry _wants_ him to want it. He doesn’t want to need some excuse to make him do it.

“Harry,” Ashton says loudly. “What are you thinking about? What do you say to him?”

“I don’t know!” Harry responds in a shouty-whisper, now defensive. “What has he said to me? What if he doesn’t want to kiss me? Why would I say something at all? If he wanted to kiss me, he would.”

Ashton shakes his head. “Not always.”

“If he’s an Alpha,” Harry argues, “then he would. That’s what Alphas _do_ \--”

“There are, like, rules. Some Alphas wait for the omega to make the first move, or at least give the Alpha a hint that they’d be receptive to being kissed before they--”

“What kind of hints?”

“Er--Leaning in. Touching them and stuff. Licking their lips, maybe. Or even--my favorite is when they straddle me, kind of, and lean down close to my face--”

“Yeah, I get it,” Harry cuts Ashton off. “But anyway, that stuff would be called _initiating_ the kiss. I thought that was the Alpha’s job.”

Ashton shrugs. “Well, some Alphas want it the other way.”

“Alphas make literally no sense then! If they're Alphas, they should just do what _they_ want. _They_ should initiate the kiss. That's why they're Alphas.”

“Right, but don’t you watch the news? I mean, Alphas do get what they want, normally, but this is...I don’t know. This is kinda different. It’s tricky. With all the charges Alphas have gotten in this country while in rut and then sometimes _not even_ in rut, it's scared some of them. That's why our A/B/O classes in school always talk about waiting for consent and stuff. Alphas don't always really care, but if they're respectful, then they would. So that's why I'm telling you all this.”

“Oh.” Harry shuts up again, left to his own thoughts. He can understand all that. He can. But if he’d already initiated _one_ kiss with Louis and Louis didn’t do anything about it afterwards except literally move on to another omega, where the hell does that leave him?

“So, you two are alone,” Ashton continues. “And just pretend that yes, he wants to kiss you. Besides these weird jeans and shoes you always wear, you are a cute omega, you know. So he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you, you _know_ he wants to kiss you, but you’re just holding hands. So tell him something. _Make_ him kiss you.”

Harry shakes his head. “This is so freaking weird.”

“Fine. I’ll be the omega, and you be the Alpha.”

“This is ridiculous,” Harry mutters, feeling like he's in school. Well, he is, but still.

“Anyway,” Ashton speaks over Harry, “picture yourself as an Alpha,then, since you aren't cooperating. I’m the omega. Alright, here goes.”

After a few quiet moments, Ashton turns his entire body to Harry and smiles. He reaches out to barely touch Harry’s arm. “I like this shirt on you,” he says. “It makes your muscles look so big.”

Harry snorts and backs away. “You’re joking.”

“Yes, of course I’m joking. You don’t have muscles,” he chuckles. “But if you were an Alpha, you’d, like, puff up hearing that from an omega. I already told you, Alphas are sort of insecure at heart.”

“That sounds stupid.”

“It’s what Alphas like to hear, Harry. It’ll...affect them.” He starts drumming on the table once he’s finished his last bite of food.

“Not to be rude,” Harry starts, “but are you on medication?”

After tossing his carton of milk into a nearby trashcan like a basketball, he turns back to Harry. “Who, me?”

Harry nods.

“Uh-uh,” he denies while shaking his head. “Why’d’ya ask?”

When the bell rings, they both stand up to return their trays and exit the cafeteria. “You’re extremely….erratic.”

Ashton just laughs. “I’m just an extrovert,” he corrects. “I’m just trying to help you do this court thing.”

Harry sighs. He never even asked for any help.

He never even asked, but he supposes he really needs it.

 

* * *

 

In the weeks after one of the worst ruts he’s had in awhile, Louis doesn’t cheer up. He spends his time at home sulking in his bedroom and, in school, walking around with a quiet temper. It’s Harry’s birthday coming up, and he can’t find it in him to be excited. Not when Harry’s probably going to spend it with another Alpha anyway.

Louis watches Ashton and Harry together. Not in a creepy way, but maybe a little bit. When he’s passing the cafeteria, he’ll stop and pretend to use his phone so he can look at what they’re doing. He’s used to watching Harry, but the feelings inside of him aren’t quite so happy when he catches him in these moments. In the mornings, he tries to act normal and cool, tries to scent-mark Harry to make it last for the rest of the day, but it’s clearly not keeping Ashton away at lunchtime.

Out of all the long rectangles of tables pushed together in rows, Harry sits at the one towards the very front of the cafeteria by the trash cans and the actual kitchen, and he stays almost on the outer edge of it by the wall. Louis knows he prefers the circular tables in the back, but unfortunately, so do all the seniors. In front of Harry is always Zayn and this other stupid Alpha that Louis has P.E. with, and on most days it’s just the four of them together. A big, happy family.

Harry normally puts his backpack down on the empty space to his right, but on some random occasions that spot is taken by one of Harry’s friends Louis now remembers by name as Niall. Louis doesn’t mind him being around Harry as much as he used to. Ever since he came along to the river with him and Harry over the summer, Louis’s realized he’s not a threat whatsoever. He’s actually a really good guy.

To Harry’s left is always Ashton, and _that’s_ definitely an Alpha that Louis minds being around Harry.  Ashton doesn’t sit very close to Harry, but he touches him with his elbow sometimes, kind of like he’s trying to get Harry’s lost attention when Harry’s looking down at his notebook. He gestures with his hands a lot and seems to be a really...fun guy.

 _Louis’s_ a fun guy.

That’s what makes him the angriest, Louis thinks--the fact that he himself is so much better than this other Alpha, but he just doesn’t have the same lunch block as Harry does. It fills his chest with the worst type of jealousy. Especially in the days before and after a rut, every instinct inside of Louis wants to march to the table, push the guy to the ground, and completely demolish him before taking his rightful place beside Harry. All of those things would be barbaric, though.

As it is, Louis’s often late to his English class fantasizing about doing it, anyway.

For days, Louis considers the potential points of contact he has available in order to do find out just what their relationship is. After he considers that, he thinks up the possible conversation he could create if he’s smart enough. It takes a little bit of time to master it all in his head, but he knows he can make it work to his advantage. It'd just be like a big game of chess.

Gym class would be his best option. Not only does Liam Payne have an obvious thing for Harry’s friend, Zayn, he and that other Alpha, Ashton, are on the football team together _and_ they all sit with each other at lunch. It’s only obvious for Louis to go to him. From his very brief encounters with Liam this year, however, Louis knows he’ll have to have a lot of patience. The guy’s strange.

Approaching other Alphas in the locker room is weird, so Louis waits until everyone’s out in the actual gym to do it.

It’s freezing outside, so the entire class is stuck in the same room for Fitness Evaluation Week. Three times a year at the beginning, middle, and end, the coach schedules a week to test, measure, and track each Alpha’s growth and strength from the start of the year to the end. Each test, from pull-ups to sit-ups to push-ups to even stretching, is done in order of seniority each day, and when Louis’s done with his test on Friday, he watches the sophomores for a bit before going back to the bleachers to relax.

Louis has to fix his scowl when he sees Liam diligently sitting up on the bleachers using a hand-grip to exercise his forearms. He casually sits next to him and rubs his own biceps, waiting for the conversation to naturally fall into his own lap.

Liam’s watching his own arm when he notices Louis’ movement from the side of his eye and turns to him. Louis notices him stare at his biceps for a split-second before he turns his eyes up to his face and smiles. “How many’d you do?”

“Twenty-two,” Louis answers, rounding up a bit. 

Liam looks impressed. “Damn.”

Louis smiles. “Think you can beat me?”

“Heck, no,” Liam replies, and Louis remembers with distaste that Liam has an atrocious southern accent, like he’s talking with a clothes-pin on his nose. 

“Well, you’re on the football team, right?” Louis asks even though he already knows the answer.

“Yeah, I am,” Liam replies, shrugging, “but I’m still tryin’ to get up to a good weight. I can still do, like, ten or fifteen pull-ups, though. I’m gettin’ there.”

By the sound of Liam’s voice, Louis can tell he’s probably embarrassed, but he’s noticed that Liam’s always been insecure about his scrawniness in the locker room. Every day after gym class, he illegally mixes up protein powder with water and chugs it down when he thinks no one’s watching, and he never gets undressed where anyone else can see. Louis bets he’s positively mortified at the thought of having to do his five or six pull-ups in front of the whole class when his name’ll be shortly called.

“So, what’s your name anyway, man?” Liam asks. “We’ve been in this class together for months, but I don’t know you.”

 _Because you’re a freshman._ “People call me Tommo,” Louis offers.

“Oh, like Tomlinson,” Liam says, snapping his fingers. He motions to the back of Louis’ shirt where the surname is written on his gym outfit. “That’s funny. I’m Liam, but people call me Payno here. Is it a thing for people from this area to do that to last names?”

“I dunno, not that I know of.” Louis shrugs. “Some names wouldn’t work, I don’t think. My best friend’s name is Calvin Rodgers,” he goes on, seeing the spark of recognition in Liam’s eyes that he was hoping for, “and no one calls him Rod-go or anything." 

Liam laughs. “I didn’t know you knew Calvin. He’s on the football team with me.”

“Ah, cool,” Louis tries to say with enthusiasm. “Yeah, he’s played forever.”

“He’s good at defense. He’s big.”

“Yeah.”

Louis doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to start talking about football too much. Mostly due to his own freshman year, he’s got a bad relationship with much of the football team, and he can already tell he doesn’t like Liam, either. Well, he’s actually known that since the first week of gym class when he witnessed Liam try to impress the other Alphas in the locker room by _singing_ (seriously--so fucking weird), but, sitting there beside him and actually speaking to him, Louis can finally confirm it. He doesn’t like Liam.

“Yeah,” Louis says again, trying to make this conversation go somewhere. “We used to play together, too. Since we were kids, actually." 

“Sweet, man,” Liam enthuses. “Why don’t you play on the team with us?”

“Too much other shit going on. But I play outside of school if I feel like it. Growing up, though, it was crazy. Me and Cal and maybe, like, ten other people from around town would get together at this field down the street from Town Hall and just play for hours.”

“That big field with the volleyball nets?”

“Yeah. Behind those, there’s enough room for soccer and football games. We’d always go there so omegas could play with us, too.”

The hand-grip falls loudly to the hard surface underneath Liam’s feet. “You let omegas play with you?”

“‘Course,” Louis goes on, looking strangely at Liam. “Some of ‘em were better than the Alphas, even. I taught these omegas in your grade--Harry Styles and Zayn Malik, do you know them?--how to play so good that they embarrassed the Alphas. Made ‘em not wanna come back some days.”

Louis’s hoping that Liam will recognize the names he’s dropped and will associate them how he wants. In his head, Liam will say something like, _“Oh, I sit with them at lunch,”_ giving Louis the opportunity to talk about all the people _he_ sits with at lunch and blah, blah, blah, opening up a natural conversation about who else _Liam_ sits with at lunch, eventually leading to Ashton so Louis could finally figure out what the fuck his relationship with Harry is.

Liam does not do this. Instead, he immediately asks Louis about Zayn and _only_ Zayn, and after catching on that he’s majorly fucked up by not realizing this would happen, Louis sighs and mutters, “Yeah, I mean. I know him just a little bit. I know his sister a little better ‘cause we had a class together a few years--”

“But you grew up with him?”

“I played football with him when we were kids,” Louis corrects. “He’s a friend of a friend, more like. But I know him okay.”

“Oh,” Liam says nonchalantly. “Do you know if he’s got a boyfriend?”

Louis rolls his eyes so Liam can’t see. “You’re the one who sits with him--I mean, I really...don’t. I don’t know him like that." 

“Join the club,” Liam sighs. “I’ve been tryin’ to figure that omega out for forever. I have a thing for him." 

“Um.” Louis doesn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”

Now Louis can tell that Liam’s all ... _weird_ -smelling. He sighs again. He didn’t mean to make Liam get all in his feelings or whatever. And it’s strange that Liam barely knows him and is already admitting these things--unless. If he thinks he needs to stake his claim ahead of Louis, well then. First of all, Louis’s older than he is so he can just fuck right off, and second of all, _Zayn Malik?_ No, thank you.

“Omegas, man,” Louis says easily. He smiles, which has always been hard for him to do if he doesn’t mean it.

“Yeah. If I could just get some freakin’ time to talk to him away from all the hall monitors and other people for once, then maybe--”

“Lunch is really the only time to sneak away if you wanna be alone with an omega,” Louis offers. “Everywhere else is always patrolled. Teachers’ll know if you’ve been gone from class too long, that kinda thing.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Liam remarks. 

Louis stares expectantly at Liam, ready for him to continue. He doesn’t. Louis had brought up the topic of lunch and everything. A normal person would say, “I already sit with Zayn at lunch,” and maybe even continue the thought by saying, “Yeah, maybe I’ll try that,” or.... _something._

Not Liam. Fucking idiot.

Louis gives up. He crosses his arms and stonewalls for the rest of gym-class, seething in his failure, and he actually feels bad for Liam when he watches his arms shake as he does his pull-ups.

In the locker room, when some Alphas have showered and some have just grossly put their clothes back on over their sweat, everyone sits down on the benches and waits for the bell to dismiss the class into the hallway. Liam sits down next to Louis, and Louis grits his teeth.

Great. Now the guy thinks Louis’s his friend.

“So what are you doing this weekend?”

“Working,” Louis replies, staring down at his phone, texting Stan.

“Where do you work?”

Louis tells him. The bell rings just then, and Louis puts his phone away. Grabbing his backpack, he walks out of the locker room into one of the side corridors, and Liam follows right along. Louis’s feeling just about as annoyed as possible until the feelings shift to something murderous when he spots Ashton in the hallway and literally witnesses him begin to approach him. He can already feel his shoulders start to square and his breathing start to intensify, and he stops walking altogether.

Liam stops walking, as well, but it’s to do some stupid handshake/hug thing with Ashton. They chat for a few seconds while Louis stares at the brick behind the pair, and he doesn’t know his own name or where he even is until Liam suddenly waves a hand in front of his face.

“What’s up?” Liam asks, unsure.

Louis shakes his head. “Huh?”

“You look angry. You need me to stay away?" 

Louis shakes his head again, this time, instead of just a reflex, in order to actually say ‘no’. Walking again now, he finally comes to his senses. “Who was that?”

“Who?” 

Louis gestures with his head. “That Alpha you were talking to just now.”

Liam’s confused for just a few seconds. “Oh, him. That’s my friend, Ashton. We’re on the football team together.”

“Ah,” Louis says, holding onto his backpack a little tighter as he and Liam turn a corner together. 

“You don’t know him? Your friend Calvin plays defense with him. I would’ve thought--”

“Never mentioned it.” Louis’ mind works at a million-miles-an-hour trying to come up with what to say next. “You two have a lot of classes together? You and Ashton?”

Liam shakes his head. They’ve approached the stairs now, and they ascend together, side-by-side. Other people on their way down get out of their way even though he and Liam are the ones being rude by taking up so much room.

“I don’t have a lot of classes with anyone, really. But me and Ashton just have lunch and History together,” Liam answers. “But we don’t even sit together in that class, and at lunch I’m too busy tryin’ to get it in with Zayn to really talk to anyone else anyway.”

Louis forces a smile. He does his best to chuckle like he would in front of any Alpha when he hears and disagrees with a shitty things they’ve said.

“Plus, he’s always talking to this other omega at lunch, anyway,” Liam goes on. “One of Zayn’s friends. Like, non-stop.”

“Oh,” Louis says. He has to pretend they’re talking about someone other than Harry when he says, “Tryin’ to get it in, himself, probably.”

“Yeah, right,” Liam laughs. “Harry--that’s Zayn’s friend, he isn’t even--wait!” 

“He isn’t what?”

“Harry and Zayn,” Liam remarks, snapping his fingers. “You know him. It’s gotta be him. I don’t know Harry’s last name, but you said Harry when you were talkin’ about with the football. It’s gotta be the same omega.”

“Yeah, maybe. What’s his last name?”

“Not sure. He’s got brown, curly hair. He’s really cute.”

And Louis’ hatred of Liam grows. “I know Harry. His sister and I have some classes together,” he plays off. “So...he sits with you at lunch?” 

“Yeah,” Liam replies, and then sort of like an apology, continues, “I’m still kinda new around here. Tryin’ to figure out who everyone is, how everyone knows everyone. It’s exciting when I can put it all together, like. I’m from a place where there’s four stop lights. Four. So this is a big change. Lots of people. But anyway. Yeah.”

“Well.” Louis swallows a wad of spit that’s formed in his mouth. “Sounds like a nice little set-up you’ve got, anyway. Each of you having lunch with your own omegas. Them being friends with each other. That’s...cool.”

“Pshh.” Liam laughs out loud. “Harry’s not Ashton’s. I don’t even think Ashton wants him. He’s already talking to, like, five other omegas right now.”

Louis narrows his eyes. “So he’s just, what? Using him for now or something?” 

Liam shakes his head. “Apparently, he’s just been, like, practicin’ with him or somethin’, I don’t know. I stay out of it.”

“Practicing,” Louis repeats, the word echoing in his mind. They’re both quiet for a long time, and Louis has tried so hard not to be obvious, but he has more questions. He’s about to ask more when Liam gestures to a doorway they’ve just reached, indicating that’s his stop. 

“Omegas, man,” Liam says, laughing as he repeats Louis’ own words from earlier. 

As Liam goes into his classroom, Louis tries to smile. Tries and fails. He balls his hands into fists and keeps walking.

 

* * *

 

Calvin’s showing off on his skateboard after school when he gets tired and joins the group for a smoke. He takes a cigarette from his cousin, Oli, before looking at Louis. “Find out anything?” he asks.

Louis flicks his lighter and speaks around the cigarette he’s igniting between his lips. “About Will or about Harry?”

“Harry.” Calvin sighs. “Will’s making me fuckin’ work for it, dude, I know nothin’ has changed there.”

Louis shivers a bit in the cold, exhales his smoke, and shrugs. “He and that Alpha are together. So.”

Stan gasps from Louis’ side. “No shit,” he says in disbelief.

“Whoa, bro,” Cal mutters. “Seriously? What happened?”

Louis tries to start talking but ends up shaking his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Calvin lights up, too. “Will just said that Harry wants experience or something, bro. I didn’t know they were together--”

“You knew?”

“Knew what?”

“You seriously knew that and didn’t tell me?”

“All Will said was that he was tryin’ to get Harry someone to teach him, like, omega things. Said that Harry needs the practice.”

“Harry needs the practice,” Louis repeats, shaking his head again. First Liam said that shit and now here’s Calvin saying the same exact thing. Harry needs the practice for what? Harry needs the practice for _who?_  “Ridiculous.”

Louis’ bad mood surrounds him like a shield from any further comments for a while as the group stands at the back of the skatepark and smokes by the chain-link fence there. It’s a frigid day, so no one else is there luckily, so Louis and his friends can get away with smoking out in the open like this.

“I don’t get it,” Stan finally says. “Practice for what? Kissing? Courting?”

“Who needs practice for courting?” Calvin asks, hitting Stan lightly. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“It’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever heard because it’s a lie,” Louis goes on. “They’re not practicing. They’re together.”

“But only pretending to be together?” Stan dumbly finishes in a bit of a question.

“ _Oh,_ that’s like those books you read, Oli, with the fake relationships!” Calvin turns to his cousin and says, snapping his fingers. “Don’t the couples always end up actually mated in those books, though? Oh shit, Lou, better move in quick.”

“That’s enough,” Louis tells Calvin. “I don’t want to have to think about this shit more than I need to. They’re together. It is what it is. Let’s change the topic.”

“It is what it is,” Stan mocks. “It doesn’t _have_ to be. You use that stupid phrase as a cop-out.”

“Oh, I’m not using it as a cop-out. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, Harry can do whatever he wants to do. It’s his choice. But I’m still his friend, aren’t I? I’m not allowed to look after his well-being?”

“You know, Louis,” Stan says, bringing a cigarette up to his mouth and making it very obvious he doesn’t believe a single excuse Louis’s given, “I’m only gonna say this because there’s just a _ten_ -percent chance you’ll get pissed off enough to hit me--”

“What a great way to start a sentence,” Louis cuts in. 

“I’m serious. You won’t like what I’m gonna say. But I’m gonna say it, anyway.”

Louis grunts, but he’s truthfully always liked how forward Stan is. “Well, spit it out then.”

“Don’t you think your reaction is a little--well...a lot--hypocritical of you?”

“What reaction?”

“Getting this worked up about Harry being with that Alpha. Either for practice or if it actually was serious.”

After blowing out a line of smoke, Louis stares at Stan. “You’re joking.” 

He shakes his head. “Why would I be joking?”

“Because you--and all of you standing here--know exactly how I feel about Harry.” Louis brings the cigarette back up to his lips and sucks. “This isn’t funny.”

“And I’m not saying it is! But Louis--You _did_ do the exact same thing with Hannah.” 

Louis shakes his head. “I did not.”

“What’d you wanna call it, then?” Stan pipes up. 

Louis huffs. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t the same. I made sure Harry had no idea it was even going on.”

“He knew,” Oli mutters.

Louis whips his head to Oli. “What d’you mean, he knew? How do you know that?”

“‘Cause I just do,” Oli replies, still in the same small voice. “He’s not dumb. I’m sure he knew.”

Louis looks at all his friends’ faces. “Somebody knows something. What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t talk to the guy, you know I don’t,” Oli defends himself, hands up. “I’m just sayin’, as an omega, I know he knows. You went to two dances with her. You Alphas think we we’re so dumb. We’re not.”

“ _You Alphas?"_  Calvin repeats. “Leave me out of it.”

“I don’t think Harry’s dumb at all,” Louis argues. “I just never wanted him to know that. And I want to forget that anything with Hannah ever freakin’ happened.”

“‘Cause you’re a pussy,” Calvin speaks up. “Too afraid to hurt that omega’s feelings in the first place, and now you’re not even doin’ shit with Harry, anyway--" 

Louis feels like breaking the cigarette in half between his fingers. “Excuse me?” 

Oli immediately walks backwards, many feet away.

“What was the point, anyway, Lou? Just sayin’. I don’t get you, man. You had some omega you had with you all the time who was asking for _more_ , man-- _asking for more-_ -and then you just ditch her for Harry, and now you’re not even making a move with Harry! It literally makes no sense.”

“Stay out of things you don’t understand,” Louis loudly retorts. “You think I don’t want that stuff with Harry?!”

“If you wanted it so bad, you’d do something,” Calvin mutters.

Stan remains quiet, silently smoking, while Oli’s just beginning to approach the group again.

“It’s complicated,” Louis states. “You don’t know the hell his dad put me through, the threats--”

“ _Wah, wah, wah._  He’s a _Beta_ ,” Calvin stresses.

“He’s a grown man and Harry’s _dad_ ,” Louis repeats in the same tone. “If he wanted to pick up and move the family to another state--which he’s fucking said he’ll do if I’m ever caught with Harry again--he can. Then I’d never see him again.”

“And yet,” Calvin chuckles, “that _still_ hasn’t stopped you from seeing him _lately,_  so...why not just seal the deal? You aren’t tired of your own hand by now?”

Louis reaches out and punches Calvin’s arm. Hard. He then looks down at it and smiles, feeling some gratification out of retaliating. “It can do many things, this hand.”

“I’m sure it could if you got it out of your own ass.” Calvin pinches the filter of his cigarette and flicks it far away.

“What are you tryin’ to say?” Louis smirks. “That I like it up the ass?”

“Louis, shut the fuck up,” Calvin says, making a grossed-out face. “I’m just lookin’ out for Harry’s _own_ ass here because--”

Louis pushes Calvin and raises his eyebrows in warning. “Don’t finish that sentence." 

Calvin rolls his eyes before getting a little closer to Louis and grinning. He holds up his own fist. “Wanna know what I did one day with Will last summer while Harry was downstairs by himself?” He spreads out his hand and wiggles his first two fingers like Louis’s gonna laugh along with him, but Louis scowls.

And just like that, the mood has gone sour again.

“You left Harry by himself?” Louis asks in anger. “And what the hell were you doing that shit with him in the house for? What if you lost control or--”

“All he was doing was writing in his diary, anyway,” Cal straightens up and interrupts.

“God, why am I even still friends with you,” Louis grumbles. “You’re so fucking inconsiderate.” Louis kicks the fence-post. “All of this sucks! It’s so ridiculous!”

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” Oli asks. He’s just dropped his own cigarette from his mouth and, after stepping on it, goes on, “You like Harry, you’ve always liked Harry, you used another omega to get better at kissing so you could go right to Harry with all your new skills or whatever once he got to high school--completely ignoring him while he was in middle school by the way--and now, even though you miraculously haven’t realized that your past actions actually have consequences, you’re still all pissed that another Alpha’s moved in with Harry before you did because all the time you spent pretending to like Hannah just to use her and hurt her feelings could’ve been spent actually building a relationship with Harry instead, and now he thinks you’re not into him at all and so has tried to make himself happier with someone else. Not that ridiculous to me.”

Oli and Louis are both out of breath when he’s finished speaking. 

“Thanks a lot, Oli,” Louis mumbles.

“It’s true,” he responds in a small voice. His pale skin is pink from the cold, making him look like a little mouse.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” Stan mutters.

“It’s true,” Oli speaks up louder. “Both of you Alphas act like you walk on water and that no one else gets hurt by the things you say or do. It doesn’t happen that way! Real life doesn’t happen that way.”

“Leave me out of this,” Calvin repeats. “What have I done?”

“I heard you talking about Harry’s friend just a second ago like he’s an object--”

Calvin growls. “You know I care about Will.”

“Then why’d you cheat on him, huh?” 

“ _Ooooh_ ,” Louis and Stan say together, both of their hands clapped over their mouths.

 

* * *

 

  
A month has already passed, and Harry can’t say he’s progressed any at becoming a better, more desirable omega for Louis. Now, as he sits on the huge couch in Louis’ den with all his sisters and plays video games with all of them, he feels like he’s more _their_ age than Louis’.

He just wants Louis to look at him and be _attracted_ to him. He doesn’t want him to think he’s some child. He wants to be appealing. Mate-material. It’s just, he’s never enjoyed all of the shooting video games that other people in high school play. He likes the ones made for kids better. He knows how it’s making him look, though, so after a while, he stops playing so just the girls can get their turn together.

The game quickly becomes too hard for them.

“I can’t do this,” Daisy finally huffs, throwing her controller across the room.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Louis scolds. “Pick that up and go to time-out. You know you don’t do that.”

There’s crying and tantrums from her and loud shouts from the others, but, being the only Alpha present since all the adults are out eating dinner at some restaurant, Louis quickly takes control of the room. When he signals for Daisy to leave her spot in the corner, he does it quietly so none of his other sisters see him, but Harry listens to the entire exchange.

“Just because you’re frustrated doesn’t mean you can just blow up like that,” Louis speaks lowly once she’s tottled back to the couch. “You’re never to throw things, you know that.”

“You do,” she counters.

“Nice little girls are never to throw things,” he corrects. “Say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry,” she murmurs.

“Give me a hug now,” Louis tells her, already wrapping his arms around her, “and go pick up your controller.”

She does so, running, and comes back to the couch. Louis’s now lying completely horizontal with his feet almost in Harry’s lap, but he sits up a bit to help Daisy out.

“Alright, darlin’, here we go,” he tells her while reaching out to press some buttons on her controller, and Harry feels so happy inside he could burst. Louis’s just so freaking good with kids. Harry could seriously watch and listen to him all day. “Let’s try again.”

For five or ten more minutes, Harry zones out watching the images on the television until Louis finally nudges him with his foot.

“So whatcha wanna do, Hazza?” Louis asks. “This feels like a holiday, right? A Friday night without any homework...my manager took me off the schedule… Livin’ the dream.” He looks at all his siblings and rolls his eyes, smiling.

Harry smiles. “Um. Do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“We could go downstairs,” Louis offers. “Watch something on the big-screen if you want.”

Louis’ little sisters make a bunch of noises that sound like _oooooh,_ and Louis glares at them before taking Harry’s hand and saying, “Yeah, we’re going downstairs, c’mon. Lottie!” he yells into the kitchen. “Watch the kids!”

“I’m not a kid,” Fizzy sticks her tongue out and says.

“Well, you watch the kids, then, Miss Second-Grader,” Louis tells her. “We’re going downstairs to watch a movie, and none of you are allowed to come down there.”

Downstairs, Louis already guesses what Harry will pick from the big case of DVDs there, and he holds it up. It’s one of Harry’s favorite romantic comedies, but Harry shakes his head. He takes a big breath before asking, “Uh. Do you have any scary movies?”

“Scary movies?” Louis repeats. “ _You_ want to watch a scary movie?”

Harry nods. “Um. Yes.”

“I don’t even think there are any down here,” Louis replies, already crouched down and skimming the bookcase all the DVDs are on again. “Maybe there’s some in James’ room, hold on.”

Harry sits on the couch feeling nervousness prickle his palms until Louis walks back in the room with six DVDs. He spreads them out on the coffee table in front of Harry, and Harry pretends to assess them for a few moments until he chooses one that he thinks will do.

“...Are you sure this is what you want to watch?” Louis asks.

Harry confidently nods.

“Alright...” Louis concedes. “I hear it’s pretty gross, though."

“I have a strong stomach.”

Standing up to get the movie started, Louis laughs out loud. “Okay?” 

After Louis turns off the lights, he reaches behind the couch to pick up a big blanket from the floor. After he puts it on his own lap, he holds it up in question. “You cold?”

Harry nods. “Always cold.”

They get under the blanket together.

The movie is scary from the start. The music alone gives Harry such an uneasy feeling that he instantly regrets choosing it, but he’s determined to tough it out because Ashton had said that watching these kinds of movies with omegas make Alphas feel strong and protective and stuff, hopefully meaning that it’ll make Harry worthy of protecting. It also gives Harry the chance to do that clutching-thing that Ashton says Alphas like, and that’s easy enough. He just has to wait for a really scary moment and then just sort of...grab Louis’ arm or something.

That turns out to be harder than Harry originally thought, though. There’s a scene towards the beginning where the main Alpha and the omega he likes are home alone and are making out on a sofa--just like the one he and Louis are sharing--and Harry feels so funny watching it next to Louis that he spends a lot of that part staring down at the blanket on his lap so he won’t get his boxers wet in front of Louis or anything. It would be mortifying if Louis could smell it.

Louis, thankfully, doesn’t say anything even if he does, and the scene goes right into something awful: the main killer has just broken into the home right as the Alpha has gone upstairs to bed. After he and the omega had sex on the downstairs couch, he left the omega all alone so he could take a shower, and now she’s trying to hide from the killer in her dark house.

“On a scale of one-to-ten,” Louis leans in and whispers, “how likely would you be to go _upstairs_ and not outside if someone broke into your home?”

Harry brings his fingernails up to his teeth. “Five. That’s a safe number.”

“ _Five_? There’s a _fifty_ percent chance that you’d do that instead of being smart and escaping?" 

“Her Alpha is upstairs,” Harry whispers. “If she goes upstairs and gets him, he can protect her, but if she goes outside, then she’s all alone and maybe the killer will follow her out there.”

Louis opens his mouth as if to say “Ah,” but doesn’t make a sound. He just scoots closer to Harry.

Since the beginning of the movie, Louis’s already been close to Harry’s side, even putting his arm around the back of the couch since the very first scene started, but Harry’s kept his hands in his own lap almost the entire time. Harry figures that if he’s gonna do this at all, he better do it now rather than later, so he prepares himself. He could start off by snuggling closer into Louis, or...or maybe he could reach out to hold Louis’ hand. Maybe he could wrap his calf around Louis’? Maybe he should just put his head on Louis’ shoulder for now.

He has no idea what he should do. There are so many options.

Louis turns his head abruptly to Harry. “You alright?”

Harry just nods. He feels his palms genuinely begin to sweat. 

“You’re gettin’ scared, aren’t you?”

He shakes his head, bravely answering “No,” before swallowing the lump in his throat. He is very scared.

“Aww, Haz,” Louis teases. His fingertips fall on Harry’s shoulder and squeeze a few times, and the tingles that have just been in his palm travel all up and down his back.

Harry’s suddenly so nervous that he feels himself get hot and shaky. He’s so mad at himself for reacting this way that he decides to put a hand in probably one of the most daring places he possibly can--right atop Louis’ leg--exactly as the bad-guy from the movie catches the omega on-screen and starts to stab her.

This causes a chain-reaction of events to occur. The very second that Harry’s hand touches Louis’ thigh, Louis literally jolts, causing Harry to flinch, as well. Instead of retracting his hand, however, Harry’s fingers end up squeezing Louis’ skin even harder, and in the few seconds it takes for this to happen, Harry misses what’s now happening in the movie. He just hears a loud scream, and so he shrieks out loud, as well, and right when he can gather enough sense to put his stupid hand back in his own lap, he lifts his eyes to the screen to be assaulted with one of the most gruesome images he’s ever seen. The omega is now lying on the bedroom floor, dead.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch what’s playing out on the television and so he can escape his own mortification, and it’s not until he hears complete silence that he reopens them.

Louis’s stood up from the couch and has turned the television off entirely. He switches on a lamp beside the couch before sitting back down beside Harry.

Harry’s hand grip the blanket on his legs. “Why are your fangs out?”

Louis feels his teeth with his tongue before covering his mouth with one hand. “They’re not fangs.”

Harry always calls Gemma’s teeth ‘fangs’ when her canines drop, but he feels he’d sound stupid explaining that right now. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry.”

“So--” Harry begins, but then he puts his lips together.

“I didn’t know it’d be that scary or I wouldn’t’ve even put it in,” Louis finally says, his way of apologizing. Harry notices Louis’ teeth have gone back to normal.

Harry tries to even out his breathing before mumbling, “I...wasn’t that scared.”

“Your heart was going crazy,” Louis chuckles awkwardly.

“Oh, I--” Harry swallows. He can tell that Louis is uncomfortable by his response to all the gore, and he desperately doesn’t want to be a burden. “I was fine.”

“I don’t want you to go home bein’ all freaked out.” Louis lifts the blanket back on his lap. “Let’s watch something more fun.”

As Louis flicks through the television inputs to try to get the regular cable back on, Harry’s disappointed, but he tries not to let it show. He’d hoped that maybe a scary movie would get them a little closer to kissing, but stupidly, he’d gone about it all wrong.

Will’s right. Will’s completely right. He’s a loser, and he needs all the help he can get.

Harry and Louis make it about ten minutes into _That 70’s Show_ when the the upstairs door opens and Austin hollers downstairs, “Your mom just called, Harry.”

Louis sighs. “Guess I gotta take you home now, huh?”

Harry stalls. “I could call her back and say I’m staying at Zayn’s tonight.” 

“James and them already know you’re here. But I like the way you think.” 

Harry gives a small smile but ends up just looking down at the carpet instead of at Louis.

“...Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” Louis nudges Harry’s arm with his own.

Harry quickly shakes his head. “Nothing." 

Again, Louis sighs. As he stands up, he adjusts the front of his pants and fixes his hair. Harry hasn’t moved. “You sure you’re good?”

Harry nods.

Louis doesn’t stop worrying, not even when he’s driven Harry all the way home. “You’re not gonna have nightmares now or anything, are you?” he asks in the stalled car.

Harry shakes his head, trying really hard to get the gross images out of his head. He doesn’t know why people watch scary movies for fun. “I hope not.”

“If you do, you just--” Louis cuts himself off. “I wish you had a phone. Like, one of your own.”

“Yeah.” 

“I could buy you one, you know. Just for texting or quick calls. A cheap one.”

“Aren’t those bad deals? My dad says they are.”

“I mean, maybe for someone who uses it a lot, but you--I mean, you could use it all you want, really, but--I don’t know.” Louis shrugs. “It’d be nice if you had one tonight. So...if you couldn’t sleep....you could call me or something.”

“I’d like that,” Harry says softly.

“I think you have a birthday in a few weeks. I’ll pull some strings.”

Harry smiles. He’s really, really, really, trying to build up the courage to tell Louis that his jacket looks good on him, but he doesn’t. The air is thick with yearning.

This is where he and Louis usually say goodbye to one another with a wave, but Harry’s gotta do something different. Before he can think it up too much, he leans forward and gives Louis a hug--a quick one, sort of--and then opens the door. 

“Bye,” Louis says. He reaches out, and his fingertips graze the side of Harry’s neck, inside his jacket.

Harry swallows and steps outside into the cold. “Bye.”

“Hey,” Louis calls after him. “See you Monday?" 

Harry automatically nods, then considers the question. He has a heat coming up kinda soon, but he doesn’t know the exact date because he’s been bad at keeping track lately. “Yes,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay, I’m off if you wanna chill,” Louis offers.

“Yeah, definitely,” Harry agrees. “Sounds good.”

“Bye,” Louis says again.

“Bye.”

Inside on his bed, Harry holds his pillow close to his stomach and stares at his wall with wide eyes. He has to get better at this flirting thing. He just has to. There’s no way things can continue in this stalemate they’re in. Unless he’s reading all the signs wrong, he doesn’t know what the heck Louis’s waiting for, but maybe Ashton’s right. Maybe school teaches Alphas that it’s a bad thing to be too pushy, so maybe Louis’s just waiting for Harry to do something. Harry’s glad he gave Louis a hug. Even though hugging is something they’ve done since they were little, it’s different now that they’re older. He just--he wants so much more. He feels like spreading his legs and groaning all the freakin’ time when he’s around Louis. 

It’s when Harry’s rolling over onto his back to stare at his ceiling that he freezes. With his pillow gripped in his hands, mind running wild considering how he’ll manage to get Louis to kiss him, he literally freezes. He leans all the way over his mattress, looking under the bed.

“Dusssssty,” he calls out, making funny noises with his lips peeking behind any bit of furniture possible. “Sps, spss, spss…. _Dusssty_.”

When he gets no response and sees nothing resembling his cat in his room, he immediately shuffles to Gemma’s room.

He gets a scowl the second he opens the door. “Is Dusty in here?”

“No, and you better not have let him come in here, either,” Gemma tells him. “I don’t want cat hair all over my stuff.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shuts the door, and runs down the stairs. 

“Mom, do you know where Dusty is?” he asks once he’s skidded in the kitchen, all out of breath. She hears him but doesn’t reply, so he suspiciously asks again, now a bit more clear, “Mom….Where's Dusty?”

“Well, I let him out this morning,” she carefully answers, “and I’m afraid I haven’t seen him since.”

Harry pauses. “But--you--you didn’t try to check to see where he went?”

“I never do,” she replies quietly. “He always comes back.”

“So he got lost!”

“He's always been an outdoor cat,” his mom gently says. “Even if he did get lost, even if he doesn't find his way back right away, he'll still be okay.”

Harry is incredulous. “Mom, what an awful thing to say! Don't you even care? It’s freezing out! We have to go looking for him!”

She quietly sighs but does not stop Harry when he grabs his coat. As he opens the front door, the stupid house-alarm electronically says _“Front Door”_ in a British accent because Gemma thought it’d be funny to set it that way, and Harry mutters _shut up_ to the electronic voice before speed-walking down the steps.

It's dark outside, making it impossible to find anything outside, especially a dark cat. Harry, his sister, and his mom trek around the neighborhood anyway. As Harry looks over his shoulder and notices them following him, he smiles a little disingenuously. He appreciates the help, but they don’t seem to be searching very well.

As he walks, Harry squats, looking underneath each and every car they pass, behind every single tire. “Do you think that he went to his owners before us? Or maybe they saw him and took him back?”

“That was, like, years ago, Harry,” Gemma says, wrapping her arms around herself and shivering.

“So? You don't know. Maybe they wanted him back.”

“ _Nine_ years later?” Gemma asks. “Don’t you think it’s more logical that he--”

Harry’s mom interrupts. “Harry, it’s getting a bit late, don’t you think, sweetheart? I need to get dinner started before your dad comes home."

“I’m not hungry,” Harry says.

Gemma suggests, “Why don’t you just get on the computer when we get back home, print pictures of him, and tomorrow we can hand them out or staple them around the town or something?”

“Because I have to have _special permission_ to get on the freakin’ computer, and at school they charge ten cents to print anything!” Harry’s suddenly frantic. “That’s why, Gemma!”

Gemma stops walking. “Okay, first of all, I’m out here in the cold-ass weather for you, and I don’t--”

“Watch your mouth, Gemma,” Anne interrupts. “You can use the computer in our room, Harry, of course you can.”

Back inside, Harry immediately does just that, and when he goes down to eat dinner, his mom has to push aside the giant pile of neatly-stacked missing cat posters that Harry won’t move from the kitchen table in order to serve food. Just as she’s placing two large bowls of food on the table, there’s suddenly a clatter from the front door, and beside Harry, Gemma makes a face so only Harry can see. It’s their dad coming home from work.

Harry’s dad brings the cold inside with him and stands watching while Harry’s mom sets out plates and silverware on the little circular table. They don’t talk to each other, and after she sits down and begins to put food on Gemma and Harry’s plates, the mood is tense. As always.

“Mom, I’m eighteen,” Gemma gripes. “You don’t have to do that.”

Harry’s dad sits down. Harry watches as his eyes turn to his mother. “Did you tell them?”

Anne freezes as Gemma asks with her mouth full, “Tell us what?”

“No, not tonight,” Anne says, shaking her head at Des.

“Tell us what?” Gemma repeats.

Harry’s parents look at each other silently until Harry’s dad turns to face Gemma and Harry. He takes a big, big breath. “Your mother and I are…Well, we’re breaking our bond.”

“What?” Harry asks at the same time Gemma says, “Oh, Hallelujah!”

“Gemma!” Anne scolds.

“What? You fight, like, every night. This has needed to happen.”

“You’re what?” Harry asks again. He doesn’t think he really comprehends what he hears as his mother takes his and Gemma’s hands and goes on, “This has absolutely nothing to do with either one of you…”

Without even touching his supper, Harry runs to his room and cries himself to sleep, and he can’t even remember the last time he’s done that. The sobs are so painful they wrack his body and make his ribs painfully poke into his stomach, and not having Dusty to hold makes it all worse. He clutches his inhaler in his hand all night long.

A while into the night, his mom brings him his dinner upstairs and even sits next to him on the bed later that night, not saying much that's helpful (because she doesn’t say anything at all), but on the nights after that, Harry learns to be quieter as he cries so she won’t feel the need to check on him.

He goes around school for the next week in a very sad mood, and when people ask him what’s wrong, he can’t even explain it, so everyone looks at him in sympathy. Poor little omega. His friends all think it has something to do with Louis. Harry lets them believe it. Because, while he's already sad as it is, he might as well be sad about that, too.

On the third morning of Harry’s despondency, Will offers, “I can ask Ashton to--”

“ _No,_ I’m not in the mood to even hear him talk,” Harry mumbles, head laying on his folded-up arms. “Please tell him to leave me alone. His help won’t work. No one’ll ever want me anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” Zayn asks incredulously.

“Tell him to move back to Australia,” Harry goes on. “I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take any of it. I can’t even pretend to. I’m a lost cause.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to sit with you at lunch anymore. He--I just can’t.” Harry wants to cry.

“But why?” Zayn asks. “You can’t keep eating your lunch in the library.”

Harry miserably goes on, “Apparently Ashton said--he’s found a boyfriend, I think. He’s really happy. Just a random guy he just met. Isn’t that nice?” 

“And...you’re upset because you caught feelings for him?” Zayn clarifies. “We can--”

“ _No_ ,” Harry groans. “I’m upset because he just _met_ this person and now they’re dating, and this whole stinkin’ time I can’t even get a boyfriend I’ve known my whole stupid life!”

Will rubs Harry’s back. “Aw, c’mon, Harry…”

“I’m done,” Harry mutters, all muffled into his skin. “I’m going to stay in the library for lunch so I can get my stupid homework done for once.”

“But what about Ashton?” Zayn asks. “Who’s he gonna talk to at lunch now? He likes you. Like, as a friend.”

Harry sighs. “He has tons of friends he can sit with now. We have nothing in common as friends, anyway. And you and Liam can now have the table all to yourselves, so.”

Harry’s just depressed.

He doesn’t think anything could get any worse, but he’s wrong.

For the first time in his entire life, Harry goes into heat in the middle of the school day, and through the tiny little window of whatever clear-headed thoughts he has, he’s only aware of his own moans and the far-off laughter of his classmates as his hips rub around in circles on his desk chair before a nurse’s aide carries him away.

 

* * *

 

Louis knows how Harry looks when he’s been crying, or what he looks like _after_ he’s been crying, more like. It’s obvious. His face gets all puffy. His eyes get red. Even his hair looks a certain way.

In the mornings, the breakfast table is silent. Harry won’t speak to anyone about what’s wrong, not even Louis, but that’s okay. Louis figures out what has happened on his own. After Harry ends up missing many school days in a row, Louis glances at his cafeteria table on the first day he comes back and realizes he’s not there. He doesn’t sit there the following day, either. On the day after that, neither does Ashton. It’s somewhat obvious what has occurred.

He tries to ask Harry about it privately when he sees him in the morning before the morning bell rings. Harry just shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he says softly. “I can’t--I’m not ready to talk about it right now.”

“Okay,” Louis says gently. “I’ll see you later then. I’ll wait for you after seventh period.”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “I can’t. Go home with you. Not tonight.”

And Louis puts his arm around his shoulder, trying to be sympathetic but feeling angrier than he has in a very long time. “It’s okay,” he says, and he’s not sure who he’s reassuring, Harry or himself. He can already smell Harry about to cry. And he’s positively going to make Ashton pay.

It’s easy to stalk Ashton; he’s a clumsy guy with a strange walk. Louis skips basically all of his classes that day to figure out what he’s been doing with his time. Louis checks the very first place that Alphas take omegas to fool around--the third-floor stairwell beside the art class--and lo and behold, there he is. Making out with some guy.

Louis doesn’t act yet.

When school’s over, he follows Ashton again. He’s pissed to discover that Ashton has taken his new omega friend into the theater room--into _Louis’_ domain--and since school’s out and there’s no one around to be seen, Louis can’t help himself anymore. The pure seething rage at knowing what this guy has done to Harry fuels him to action.

He swings open the door and refuses to look away. He’s going to study everything about this guy so if he ever sees him around Harry again, he’ll know to _kill him._  

“You’re a piece of shit,” Louis remarks incredulously, standing still with his hands in his pockets. His fingers dig into his own leg. “A real-life piece of shit.”

He’s not sure if his voice is even audible, but as he walks with a purpose down the main aisle of the auditorium, right until he’s at the bottom of the stage, he can feel the fright roll off the omega that’s sitting beside him. He can’t find it in him to feel bad about scaring an innocent omega because the awful human being that’s standing beside him deserves every ounce of wrath Louis has within him.

“I’m sort of in the middle of something here, mate,” Ashton says, standing in front of the omega and squaring his shoulders. “Can I help you with something?”

“You know,” Louis says, clenching his fists, “I’m aware of your reputation and all, but you really fucked with the wrong omega this time.”

Ashton looks down, finally picking up on Louis’ seriousness. “Go wait for me out in the hall,” he tells the omega by his side.

The guy stands up to leave, but before stepping off the stage, he quietly asks, “What’s going on?”

“Just go.”

The omega looks down and nods to the ground.

“Just gonna send him off, huh?” Louis interrupts. “Just like that? Don’t wanna tell him he’s your side-piece? Or maybe one of many?”

Ashton frowns and clenches his fists along with Louis. “If you’re trying to claim him, I already have, so--”

“Like hell, you have!” Louis retorts.

Having only stepped to the side, the omega’s now shaking. “I’m--W-what is--?”

“Just go wait for me outside,” Ashton orders. “Now.”

At Ashton’s Alpha voice, the boy nods and scurries away, for real this time. Louis waits the entire time it takes him to leave the auditorium before he rounds on Ashton and really lays into him. “You’re a fucking pig. You don’t deserve him, you know that?”

Ashton looks at the the auditorium door the omega has just walked out of and blinks. “Who the hell are you to tell me--”

“Who the hell am I? Who the hell are you?! He’s been crying for a fucking week, you asshole. Who the fuck do you think you are--”

“Cryin’ for a week? Who are you talkin’ about here?”

Louis’ mouth drops. “Are there that many that you don’t even know who I’m talkin’ about?”

“Who the hell even are you, man? What is this?”

“Retribution.”

Ashton takes a step back and breathes heavily, as Louis’s now walked completely into his personal space. “Retribution for...?”

“Did you tell Harry you were cheating on him or did he just find out on his own because you’re that much of a dumb jock? Do you not even fucking care?”

“...Harry who?”

Louis just scowls.

Ashton straightens himself up. “Look, man, I’m not trying to fight about any of--”

“Then you should’ve kept it in your fucking pants then!”

All at once, Louis’ arms are flailing, and Ashton just manages to get out of being punched in the face by mere seconds. “Good Lord!” he shouts, backing away. “Chill out, dude! I don’t even know who you’re talking about! Harry who?!”

“Harry _Styles,_  you dick!”

“ _Oooooh_ , Harry _Styles,_ ” Ashton says, standing still now. He sniffs the air. “So _you’re_ the one--”

Louis pushes Ashton’s chest, and Ashton’s demeanor changes completely. He growls. “I don’t know what the hell you’re on about, but there’s never been nothing between us!”

“So you were just using him then?” Louis walks forward again. “I knew it. That makes it so much easier for me to do this.”

Ashton straightens out his shirt. “Sorry?”

“You’re _such_ a fucking piece of shit,” Louis remarks.

“I don’t even know you! I haven’t _done_ anything to you! This is all just a--”

“Fuck with Harry and you fuck with me.” Louis’s gotten close enough to reach out and grab hold of Ashton’s shirt, and Ashton tries in vain to push him away.

“I haven’t done anything to Harry!” Ashton pushes at Louis’ wrists. “You’re stronger than you--look--Jesus--” Suddenly, he’s finding it hard to breathe. “Fucking--let--me--go! I haven’t done anything to Harry!”

“Yeah-fucking-right! The second you messed around with Harry’s feelings is the second you dug your grave, man,” Louis says, finally releasing Ashton and shoving him a bit. He wants to fight. He’s so fucking mad.

“I didn’t do anything to him!” Ashton yells again, backing away to hide behind a cardboard cut-out of a tree. He keeps walking backward when Louis keeps pursuing him. “You don’t even know what you’re talkin’ about!”

“Yes, I do. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Louis swipes a curtain out of his way and keeps pursuing. “You fucked with Harry’s emotions. Regardless of whatever he is to you, you don’t do that shit. To anyone. But especially not to Harry.”

“Look,” Ashton pleads, retreating even more, “I would never--that’s not in my style. Harry and I are just friends, okay? Just friends. It’s never been anything--and if you’d just stop trying to--”

“So you were friends with benefits, seriously? You think he deserves that?”

Ashton continues to back up until he’s found a wooden stool to stand behind. “I--No, man, that’s making me sound sleazy now.”

“Well, you are!”

“No!” Ashton lifts up the stool and holds it out towards Louis, trying to threaten Louis, but Louis knows it’s more for protection. He’d never say it out loud, but at first he was nervous of taking on this Alpha. He’s watched him for a while. Being on the football team, he’s clearly larger than Louis and probably capable of being a good match in a fight, but now, Louis’s not worried anymore. Dude’s a fucking wimp. “Harry’s a good person, okay? I haven’t done anything to him!”

“You made him cry. And that’s a pretty big fucking--”

“I never made Harry cry! What the hell? We’re not a thing! Harry and I--we’re not a thing! We have never been a thing!”

Louis tilts his head to the right, lifts his hand up to his jaw, and cracks his neck. He does it again to the other side, like he’s crazy.

Ashton darts his eyes lower to Louis’ neck, and his mouth drops open. “Are you--you're not his freakin’ _Alpha,_ are you?”

Louis cracks his knuckles.

“Oh, my God,” Ashton whispers. “Man, you’re his freakin’ _Alpha_... Shit--I swear to you. I swear to you, I’ve never touched him.”

“That’s a lie!” Louis roars so loudly it makes his own ears ring. “Get the fuck out from behind from that stupid chair and fight me like an Alpha! For Christ’s sake!”

“Harry’s a friend, but I never would’ve--I never would’ve even _talked_ to him if I knew he was mated--”

Louis’s getting angrier by the second. He’s certain his body’ll explode if he can’t get it out. “Look, just fight me already!” he demands. “What the hell is going on?”

Ashton finally stands up to his full height, brazen. His eyes burn with a newfound passion. “You tell me. Harry’s always been secretive, even for an omega. I never realized he was probably escaping a mate...using me for security from another Alpha…. An unusually aggressive Alpha, probably, from how scared he always acts. You seem to fit that description, don’t you?”

Louis takes a step back. “Harry isn't mated.”

“You're not his mate?”

“No, I’m not his mate,” Louis responds with forced patience.

Ashton narrows his eyes at Louis. “I still don't believe you.”

“Well, good for you!” Louis throws his hands in the air. _For everything that is holy._ He can’t even succeed at instigating a fight. He takes the chair that Ashton’s discarded and throws it as hard as he can in the other direction, roaring as he does so. Afterward, he stands still, chest heaving.

It seems like half-an-hour later when Ashton finally speaks up from far, far away. “I know I’ve got a bad reputation, alright?” he starts. “I know I do. But it’s not what you think, and I swear to you I’ve never done anything bad to Harry. If you’re trying to claim him, then he--" 

Louis breaks. He falls to his knees and roars again--this time into the hands he brings up to his face--while he blocks out the rest of what Ashton’s saying.

“I was just helping him,” Ashton finishes.

“Helping him how? He doesn’t need your freaking help. Give me a break.”

“I mean, you say you aren’t mated,” Ashton goes on, so far away from Louis now that it’s almost funny, “but I think he maybe wants you to be.”

Louis narrows his eyes. Alphas don’t talk about this stuff with one another. There’s an ulterior motive somewhere. Louis’ hair has fallen into his eyes, and he feels sweaty and claustrophobic, like he can’t get enough oxygen. It’s too early for his rut, but it certainly feels like it’s about to start again.

“What are you talking about?”

“He…” Ashton shrugs. “He wanted to know things.”

“Jesus Christ,” Louis mutters. He holds up his hand so Ashton will know not to go on. So Liam was freaking right after all. Calvin was right. Everything was true. This whole time, Harry’s sought out Ashton for...experience. And Louis can’t even blame him.

“I never touched him, mate,” Ashton repeats.

Louis grits his teeth. “If you want to keep your sight, if you ever want the ability to reproduce, then I swear to you, you need to leave and leave quick.”

After Ashton abandons the scene, Louis immediately runs to the gym to let off steam. The first half-hour is spent on the treadmill, making himself sweat, and the second half-hour is spent in front of a punching bag, picturing Ashton’s face while hitting it repeatedly. He lifts for the remaining hour. By that evening, he’s immediately thrown into a rut, and if he thought the ones in the past were bad, they were nothing compared to this. In addition to punching through two different areas of drywall in his room, he breaks three pieces of furniture and his bedroom window.

 

* * *

 

Harry gets an unexpectant heat on the day after his father moves out. He wants Louis so desperately--with his body and his mind now, too--that he leaves his bedroom and almost succeeds in walking naked outside into the snow. His mom had no choice but to drag him back upstairs, and he wailed and sobbed inside his bedroom for two entire days while he felt the presence of his worried mom outside in the hall.

When he’s in the clear again, he still doesn’t go to school. He doesn’t go the next day, either, and by the third day, it’s already the weekend. He trudges downstairs in sweatpants and still-wet hair, and he locks eyes with his sister.

“Why’d you get two heats so close together?” Gemma asks, eating a bagel. “Something wrong with you?”

Harry runs his fingers through his curls, pushing them out of his eyes. “No,” he says petulantly. He walks past the kitchen to the coat-rack in the hallway.

“Where ya goin’, sweetie?” his mom asks from by the stove.

“I’m not coming home pregnant if that’s what you’re worried about,” Harry mutters as he puts on his jacket. “And Dad’s deserted us, so why does it even matter if I see him anymore?”

“You can still get pregnant outside of your heat, dummie,” Gemma quips.

“Just leave me alone,” Harry says. He zips up his jacket and turns away from her.

“Mooooody, moody,” Gemma sings.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I just really need to see him, Mom. Please?”

She meets his eyes like she's assessing if his heat is still on. “Please don’t ride your bike too fast. Watch out for ice.”

Harry nods and goes outside. He just can’t take being in the house any longer, though being out in the bitter air isn’t actually much better.

The winter is starting to get to him. His life is starting to get to him. Everything’s too cold. He needs it to be sunny again. He needs it to be warm. If he could blink and have everything be different, wouldn’t that be a dream-come-true.

He knows his mom has been barely keeping it together. He knows she’s been crying just as much as he has. It makes him feel guilty to be escaping the way he is, but he can’t take being away from Louis another day. His feet pedal automatically to Louis' house, and though he's gotten a cell phone for his birthday, he doesn't give Louis any warning he's stopping by.

Harry finds the door unlocked, and he never just walks in, but today he does. As he walks inside and makes a beeline for the stairs, he knows he’s recognized by whoever’s hanging out in the kitchen, but no one says anything to him.

Not caring about how loud he’s being, he knocks on Louis’ door, and when it opens, his eyes fill up all over again.

Louis looks at Harry all over, up and down. “Harry, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Harry shakes his head. Not to tell Louis that nothing’s wrong, but to tell him that he can’t talk just yet. Without even putting any thought in it, he walks forward and wraps his arms around Louis’ torso, feeling better already, and he squeezes as hard as he can.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologizes. Not even for getting Louis’ shirt all wet with gross snot and tears, but for bombarding him like this after they have barely seen or talked to one another in over a week. Or maybe, with his second heat, it’s been even longer than that. He can’t explain it, though. It’ll always feel like no time has passed at all between them, no matter what’s going on in his life.

Louis backs up enough to look at Harry’s face, but he doesn’t let Harry go. “Harry…”

Harry just hides his face more into Louis’ shirt, crying all over again.

Louis opens his door a bit wider. “Let’s go in here,” he decides.

Harry is quiet for a few moments, but he starts crying again when he lets go of Louis and sits down on his bed. “I’m so tired of crying all the time.” He puts his head in his hands. “Everything s-sucks. I’m s-s-sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Louis sits down on the bed after shutting the door, and he hugs Harry from the side after removing his coat for him. “It’s okay...It’ll be okay.”

Harry cries into his own hands for quite a while until the heat from his breath makes him lift his face to Louis. He shakes his head. “No, it won’t." 

“Yes, it will. I promise it will.” Louis reaches out and takes one of Harry’s hands in his own. Harry thinks his eyes look fierce. “You got me, don’t you know that?”

Harry just cries harder. He feels Louis’ body go rigid, and he tries to stop crying so roughly because he can tell it’s bothering Louis. Holding in his tears makes his breath hitch.

“What did he do to you?” Louis murmurs incredulously, so quietly Harry can barely hear it.

Harry knows Louis doesn’t like his dad. He wishes they would get along--wishes it could be one big, happy family where neither of them ever had to talk about the other in disdain--but it’ll never happen. Now with his parents breaking their bond, it’ll never, _ever_ happen.

“He didn’t do anything to me,” Harry finally whispers. “Not _just_ me, at least. It’s Mom.”

“What? Your mom?”

Harry nods. And the tears come back.

_“He did something to your mom?”_

The mood in the room is awful. Harry finally gets out, “They’re breaking their bond. Officially.”

“What? Who is?”

“My parents. Mom and Dad are breaking their bond,” Harry explains, sniffing. “I know they’ve always fought. I know that. But--but--but now they’re breaking their bond. Just when things--just when I’m-- _this absolutely sucks."_

Louis finally scoots back to Harry’s side and hugs him again. “Oh, Harry…”

“He moved out a few days ago.”

After a long while, Harry answers the unspoken question that’s floating around between him and Louis. “It’s something about the house,” Harry says, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Dad did something. They owe more than what they bought it for or something like that. So he’s moving out--he’s already got an apartment--but Mom doesn’t think she can stay ‘cause she can’t afford the payment by herself--and--Gemma gives her all the money she makes from her own job, but--” More tears pool up in Harry’s eyes.

“Harry, it’s all right--your mom can get him to pay child support and other stuff like that--that’s what my dad does--and we can help you, too--”

Harry shakes his head. “And Dusty ran away--a long time ago--and he’s probably out there somewhere _dead,_ and--and--even if he’s not, he’ll never find me now ‘cause we’re not gonna have anywhere to _live_ \--” Harry’s lips turn down at the sides, and they wobble as he sobs.

“Yes, you will,” Louis passionately tells him. He grabs both of Harry’s hands. “You can stay with us. Harry, you can always stay with us. We have tons of room. It’ll be fine. We can find Dusty or--or--we can get a new cat for you, and--”

“I don’t _want_ a new cat!” Harry wails. He’s not let himself show this much emotion in front of Louis since he was a kid. He finds that he can’t help it now, though, and not only can he not help it, he wants to let it out. He wants Louis to see it for some reason. “None of this would’ve happened if I would’ve just listened to what Dad told me to do for so long. If I was just a better son--like, a better omega--he wouldn’t’ve felt like his life sucked so much that he had to break up with Mom to be happy--” 

“Harry--”

“He's always wanted me to do regular things like just listen to his rules and stuff, but I can’t even do that right. Maybe if I didn’t do so much stuff wrong--maybe he would’ve stayed.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Yes, I have." 

“How did you cause this? He messed up on his house payments. How is that your fault?”

“I could’ve--I could’ve done something…” he says miserably.

“I’ll tell you what my uncles always used to tell me,” Louis finally says. He’s been stroking Harry’s back for some time now, and he finally removes his hand. “I know he's your dad and all, but. People--” He clears his throat. “People are gonna do what they’re gonna do. Sometimes you can’t stop them. But it doesn’t mean anything about your own self-worth. So don’t let it. Other people's actions show--" Louis pauses and clears his throat. "They show more about that person than...anything else."

Harry takes a deep breath. He nods. “Thanks.”

After a long time passes without anyone speaking, Louis comments, “This is a big estate, you know. We have, like, half a house we don’t even use... Mom keeps Nan’s old furniture on that side, but. I can move it all for you." 

Wouldn’t that just be too good to be true. Harry can’t reply, so he just nods again. He wipes his eyes, and when his head starts pounding from crying so hard for so long, he lays it down on Louis’ pillow.

They don’t talk after that.

Louis turns out the lights, puts on _Parachutes_ by Coldplay, and moulds his body behind Harry’s on the bed. Even without covers on his body, Harry feels so heavy and warm and safe in Louis’ scent that he goes to bed without changing his clothes or eating dinner, and his mom doesn’t even call to tell him to come home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my scenes seem to end in Louis' room...and there's a lot that happens in Louis' room in the next chapter, too! I swear it gets better. Sorry for the misery-overload.


	14. playing it cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody. I've been sick so thanks for the nice words from last time and patience while I prepared to post this. As always the formatting is jacked up which I will fix to make it pretty when I can. :)))

* * *

For what feels like the millionth night in a row, Louis finishes cleaning himself off with a few tissues from his nightstand, shoves his old, tattered magazine back under his mattress, and lays naked on top of his crumpled-up blankets while his heart-rate quickly decelerates and his knot slowly deflates.

Is it wrong that despite everything Harry’s going through, Louis still can’t stop picturing the most perverted things possible whenever he so much as touches him? Yes. Yes, of course it’s wrong. Does that stop Louis? No.

After years of practice, Louis’s become a pro at waiting to act on his thoughts until he’s all alone, but after each secret orgasm he has, gross guilt covers him like slow molasses spreading through his blood, and when he looks down at his knot, instead of feeling relief and pride, he feels like the weakest Alpha in existence for turning Harry into an object for his fantasies. It's not necessarily new; he's felt like this for a while. It's still not something he likes. The feeling itself just makes him feel even weaker, because what the hell? He's an _Alpha_.

The large, Alpha side of his brain screams at him. He's allowed to think about Harry like that. He's _supposed_ to. They're going to be mates someday. Louis alone is the one who can think those things about Harry, who can act those thoughts out with Harry. Truly, he’s excited about it.

The only thing is, another part of his brain--a more insecure part--often screams at him, too. Telling him to stop being so inconsiderate, even if it's just in his thoughts. Telling him to wait for _Harry_ to be ready to get involved in courting stuff. To wait for Harry to ask. It's the side of Louis’ brain that chooses jerking off every night over pursuing Harry directly, like so many other Alphas he knows would do. It's the side that brings up images of Harry's dad driving off with Harry if he ever knew, of Harry being mortified and scared at Louis coming on too strong, of Ashton being someone that Harry prefers. It’s the side that makes up excuses.

Long-ago words from various people echo around in his mind. Things his mom has said. His uncle. His teammates. ”What kind of an Alpha just does that?” (when he quit sports) or “You have so much potential,” (when he failed a few classes) or “You're the smallest Alpha I've ever seen!” (when he tried out for the football team). Words that constantly made him feel weak and still somehow do.

But something's gotta give. He is an Alpha here. And while Harry may not be ready for everything Louis is, at least he’s sort of interested in it. That bit of information is seriously the only good thing about what Louis found out about that fucktard Harry was with: that Harry wants practice.

Louis remembers when he did, too. Why Harry never approached Louis himself about that is something Louis tries not to think about. He knows he isn’t the greatest Alpha in the entire world. He’s short. He’s got relatively squinty eyes. His ass is too big for an Alpha, his legs too stumpy, his fingers too delicate. But he’s strong and he’s funny and he’s loyal, and he’d like to watch another human being even try to treat Harry the way he could.

Naked, he gets out of bed and digs around under his bed until he finds the book his mom gave him a long time ago, _Omegas and You: What You Don’t Know You Don’t Know._

He's never completed one entire book front-to-back before, but he's determined to actually read this now. If he can’t figure out how to fix the shit going on in his own mind, at least he can try to make things good with Harry somehow.

 

* * *

 

  
St. Patrick’s Day falls on a Monday, and while the entire student-body enters the school fresh from the weekend clad in various shades of green from head-to-toe, Louis, Zayn, and Harry aren’t wearing a sole article of clothing in the color.

The breakfast table is dead. Everyone’s exhausted and already ready for school to be over.

Watching Zayn across the table use fancy colored pencils to work on something for his art class, Louis and Harry both sit next to each other in silent sleepiness. There’s nothing wrong, though. It goes unspoken that Liam is a bit of a dork, and it’s funny for Harry and Louis to watch him in the mornings, tired though they may be. Currently, Liam’s close beside Zayn staring more at his face instead of the actual artwork, and from time-to-time Harry hears Zayn mutter things under his breath about Liam distracting him. Harry isn’t sure if he’s distracted by Liam’s gawking, his constant whispered-compliments of “Ooh, Zayn, that looks great what you did right there” or his annoyingly bright green t-shirt.

Despite Liam being an unknowing source of amusement, everything is uneventful because Will’s not there. He’s been home sick for a few days, and whenever there’s no Will, there’s no chance of Calvin sitting there, either, which means everything is quiet. Niall also won’t be stopping by because last week his family went on vacation overseas to visit relatives in Ireland or something. He won’t return to school for another week.

Harry looks down at the table and blinks. He’s tried very hard for a very long time now, but he can’t stop thinking about his dad. Just the brief thought of Niall being on vacation with his parents--his parents, together, mated and happy--makes Harry want to go back home, crawl in bed, and escape the world for a while.

Still, he’s all right, all things considered. Louis sits beside him on most mornings before school, and his evenings are now spent tension-free without his dad in the home. Dusty still hasn’t been found, but Harry remains hopeful about it, looking for him a bit every day after school. He can’t have gone too far away. Harry just feels bad for him. He must be so scared.

“You alright?” Louis finally breaks the silence, putting a hand on Harry’s back after he’s zoned out too long.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry shakes his head and quickly says, smiling briefly. He’s been such a burden on Louis with all the crap going on in his life. “Just tired.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Louis just rubs his hand up and down the back of the hoodie that Harry’s worn out so much the bottom is fraying, and Harry lifts his head, rubs his eyes, and mutters out of nowhere, “I think I should get a job soon.”

Louis’ hand stops. “Where’d that come from?”

“I just want to help Mom out,” he replies, shrugging.

“What does she need?”

Harry wraps his arms around himself and answers, “A house.”

“Haz, you already know this,” Louis responds, dropping his hand. “You’re moving in with us next month. My mom’s already talked to your mom about it. Remember?”

“I know, but that’s just until we can find an apartment of our own,” Harry says half-heartedly. “We can’t just, like, crowd up your house forever. Gemma’s about to go to college, so me and Mom--”

“You always worry so much. You’re not crowding anything. The house is way too big, even for my soccer-team-of-a-family. All three of you can stay as long as you need to.” Louis shrugs. “They might not even notice anybody new is there.”

Harry tries to chuckle.

“And you can just stay forever if you want.” Louis gives Harry a tired wink, scratching his back a little.

Harry genuinely smiles at that, but then he just starts worrying again. He really should start looking for a job. Maybe just, like, a summer job. Something easy. Something he’d enjoy doing so it didn’t feel like work. So he could help out with a deposit for an apartment when the time came. So it didn’t feel like he was bumming off Louis’ family so much.

“Aren’t you excited?” Louis asks in a different tone.

That breaks him out of his concerns. _He’s moving in with Louis_. Harry looks down and smiles. “Yes.”

The conversation between Harry and Louis tapers off after that, both of them too tired to talk anymore--or maybe just too daydreamy about living together soon--but Louis breaks the silence again a few moments later.

“You don’t do homework in the mornings anymore,” he comments, leaning more into Harry’s space. “You sweet-talkin’ your teachers or just doin’ it all in your sleep?”

Louis’s so close that Harry can smell the body wash he uses, and it’s a familiar comfort for him. He discreetly breathes it in before he shakes his head and answers, “Lunch.”

“What, you’re not eating?” Louis scrunches his eyebrows together and asks. There's a rasp in his voice that still hasn’t gone away, and Harry knows it won't until at least mid-morning.

“I do,” Harry tells Louis, shrugging. “I just do my homework at the same time.”

“Just do it at my house after school. All the big holidays are over, so they're not scheduling me so much at work. You should come over more. You know,” he says, nudging Harry’s back with his fingers that are still touching him there, “move your stuff in and all that.”

“I will,” Harry promises.

“You will?” Louis sits taller and asks. “Tonight?”

“Well, I haven’t packed yet, but I’ll come over, yeah.” He scoots a little closer to Louis so their legs touch. He knows what Will would say about his bad flirting if he were here, but he’s really trying. He’s trying here. And he’s not imagining that Louis has been more touchy-feely lately, too, so whether or not he’s a bad flirt, he’s still pleased. Things are progressing.

“Good.” Louis moves his arm to hang around Harry's neck and very discreetly squeezes the tense muscle of his shoulder. It feels really, really good. “Don’t do all your work at lunch anymore. Take a break...Talk to your friends.”

While his shoulder gently moves with the light attention from Louis, Harry stares across the table at Zayn and Liam. He feels like blushing--just from this small display--but Liam and Zayn aren’t even looking.

“They only ever talk to each other at lunch, really,” Harry mutters very quietly, motioning with his eyes to the pair. “So....it’s just me now. I normally just go to the library alone.”

“Well.” Louis clears his throat. “That’s rude.”

Louis’s stopped moving his hand, so Harry guesses something he said bothered him. “I mean. I get it. And they talk to me, you know, sometimes,” he corrects quietly. “But they really like each other, so. It’s fine.” He finally lifts his head to look at Louis who’s now looking at Liam and making a face. Harry laughs under his breath.

The bell rings just then, so Harry grabs his backpack and gives Louis and the rest of the table a smile and wave before walking off alone since Will’s not there.

“What are you doing?” Louis catches up and pulls on his arm. “I’ll walk with you.”

Harry smiles.

 

* * *

 

  
It makes no sense to him, but something inside of Louis hates the idea of Harry having to work. He’d rather just give him the money that he makes himself so Harry wouldn’t have to worry so much. He’d give it to Anne, too, if Harry wanted him to.

But Harry wants a job, so.

That weekend, Louis drives around town with him and takes the responsibility of asking store managers if they’re hiring. He ends up with a stack of applications for Harry--mainly for retail places or restaurants--but as Harry sits in the passenger seat and goes through them all, he discovers bad news.

“None of these places will hire anyone under sixteen-and-a-half,” Harry tells Louis in disappointment.

Louis stops at a red light. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. It’s alright, though. Maybe you can find a really small store around here that’ll hire you. Like a family-owned place. Places like that, it helps if you already know someone. So I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Louis brushes off. “Maybe not today, though, but I’ll do it.”

Harry nods. “Thanks,” he repeats.

“You wanna go grab something to eat? We’ve been riding around for hours.”

Harry shrugs. “We can just go to my house. I don’t have any money.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” Louis easily says. He turns to face Harry. “I asked if you wanted to get something to eat.”

Harry smiles. “Sure.”

Louis turns back to face the front and begins driving again. His fingers drum against the wheel to let out his energy. “Where ya wanna go?”

“I dunno. Where do you wanna go?”

“No, no, don’t do that,” Louis says, chuckling. “Just pick somewhere.”

“Um...Well, I’m bad at picking,” Harry counters. “You know that.”

“Then I’ll just drive around until you find somewhere you want me to stop.”

Harry folds his arms, fighting a smile. “Fine.”

Louis takes turns and drives down random roads until Harry finally sits up and points to a building on their left. “Ooh, I wonder what that place is. Look.”

“Where? Which one?”

“The little shop with the window boxes. Does it sell food or is it, like, a hotel or something, do you think?”

“Looks like a bakery,” Louis answers, slowing down to make a turn so he can drive up to it. “Are you sure you want to eat at a bakery?”

“Oh my gosh, this place looks so cute,” Harry gushes as they get closer. “It looks like it belongs in Europe. Look at the flowers out front in the boxes! And look--all the stuff is on display in the front windows, and they wrote on the windows with marker...Aw, Louis. I want to eat here.”

Louis smiles. “ _They wrote on windows with marker,_ ” he repeats. “Honestly, you’re such a child.”

“Shut up.”

Louis wordlessly finds a parking spot to the side of the building. Covering the white-painted brick there is big, swirling cursive, and Louis reads the words in a British accent. “Barbara’s Bakery,” he says regally.

“Barbara’s Bloody Bakery,” Harry repeats, laughing as he tries to do an accent himself. He seems pleased with himself when Louis laughs. “I wonder who Barbara is.”

Louis points to a little chalk sign to the front of the building. “She’s the baker, duh. She makes the town’s best blueberry muffin.”

Harry’s eyes get big in excitement. “Well, I gotta try it if it’s the town’s best.”

“Get ten if you want,” Louis simply says, stepping out of the car to quickly run around the hood and open up Harry’s door. While they do go out and do things together from time-to-time, today feels different. Maybe Louis’s imagining it--or maybe he’s just wishing it--but today almost feels like a date. They walk inside together, Harry looking all around at the (honestly, not-very-special) window displays, and as they approach the counter, Louis’s suddenly nervous. He hides it by casually swinging his arms back and forth from behind his back to the front.

Harry looks at him awkwardly. “Could you order first?”

Louis shakes his head. “Omegas first.”

Harry gets something Louis doesn’t hear because honestly, he’s just staring at his ass, and by the time Harry’s holding his order in his hand, Louis doesn’t realize he’s been staring for too long and has been caught. He looks up and widens his eyes.

Luckily, Harry doesn’t say anything as he walks past him to the little coffee station by the wall. Louis steps forward. “Uh, yeah, could I just get a cup of green tea and,” he pauses as he peers into a glass case by the register, “I don’t know--a few of these cookies on the top there.”

He pays and walks a few feet away to where Harry’s stirring sugar into his coffee. He looks at Louis’ hands and smirks. “What’d’ya get to drink?”

“Tea.”

“Oh that’s right, you don’t like coffee,” Harry comments, “‘cause you’re a wittle baby.” He takes a sip of his coffee and tilts up his pinkie, looking at Louis with mirth in his eyes. It’s a surprise he doesn’t start laughing and choke on his drink.

“There’s nothing wrong with a good cup of tea,” Louis retaliates, lightly pushing Harry’s shoulder. “It’s better than your bean juice.”

Harry is jolted enough by Louis’ push to make the coffee in his cup spill a bit, burning his upper lip and causing him to let out a weird noise from the back of his throat. “Mm!”

“Oh, I barely even pushed you,” Louis laughs once he realizes Harry’s okay. “Tea hater.”

“Coffee hater. You’re lucky I know how to behave in public places,” Harry primly tells him, wiping his mouth with a napkin. He walks alone to a small table by the front window.

Louis grins and follows once he picks up his food from the woman behind the counter. He sits down and starts pouring milk in his tea. “And why’s that?”

“I’d pour my coffee on your head,” Harry makes up, laughing.

“Ouch. Remind me never to insult it again, then.”

Harry just takes his spoon and points it threateningly at Louis. “That’s right.”

Louis looks down at the muffin in front of Harry. “So is that all you’re eating?”

“You got cookies to eat,” Harry replies dully.

“Organic cookies, whatever that means. Thought you’d approve.”

Harry shakes his head. “You need your veggies. At least I’m getting my fruit intake today.”

“They need to invent something where, like, things like spinach and carrots could taste like dessert.” Louis flexes his muscles. “I’d be so ripped.”

“Your muscles are already big,” Harry mumbles. “What’s wrong with the taste of spinach and carrots alone?”

“Oh, I just love carrots,” Louis says sarcastically. “They’re delicious.”

Harry smiles and they both start eating, and after a few silent moments, Louis wipes his mouth. He’s already finished his food. “So. Have you talked to your dad at all?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m supposed to see him tomorrow, but he hasn’t called yet. So I don’t know. I’m really nervous about it anyway.”

“Why?”

“He’s just...my dad, you know? It’s complicated. I want things to just be happy, and they’re not.”

“Yeah.” Louis figures keeping his opinion out of it is the safest thing to do. A chapter in his book, How To Talk so Omegas Will Listen, or actually, maybe it was How To Listen So Omegas Will Talk, said that the best thing to do when with omegas is to ask a bunch of questions about things they like but try to keep from upsetting them with opinions. When Harry doesn’t say any more, Louis just changes the topic. “You could come out with me and the girls if you want, then. There’s a kite festival at Greenview Park I’m taking them to.”

“Oh, sweet.” Harry takes another bite of his muffin. He’s not even halfway done, and Louis forces himself not to laugh. It’s a big muffin, yeah, but Harry’s just so monstrously slow. “I’ll see if I can go,” he says with his mouth full. “I have a paper to do, and I still have to pack up my room and help Mom with other stuff.”

“Need help?”

“I got it,” Harry says nicely. “It’s not much. Dad took a lot of things to his new place ‘cause he said he’s the one who bought them, so.”

“Nice guy,” Louis mumbles, shaking his head. That’s something his own dad would probably do, actually. His mom told him once that he only wanted to date her for her money.

People fucking suck.

He doesn’t want to be one of them. He just wants to be a good Alpha, someone Harry can be proud of to call his mate one day. He knows he has to work for it. He’s determined.

“So,” Louis says after a while, nerves getting the best of him. He keeps bouncing his leg under the table.

“So what?” Harry asks, again, with his mouth full of muffin.

“So...What’s going on with you?” Louis nudges Harry’s foot with his own. “What’s going on in your little circle of friends? Catch me up.”

“My little circle of friends? I don’t know.”

“Nothing?”

Harry contemplates after he swallows. “Oh, I didn’t tell you,” he says excitedly. “Liam and Zayn aren’t talking. So that’s news.”

Louis lifts his eyebrows in curiosity. “Oh, yeah? Trouble in paradise?”

Harry makes a face. “I don’t really know. Zayn's so mad he won't say what happened. But I think Liam went to a party last week and it upset Zayn or something, but I don’t know the whole story.”

“We should have a party at my place,” Louis mutters. “That’d be so sick.”

“How would you get all your family to leave, though?”

Louis shrugs. “I dunno. They go on vacation every summer. Maybe I can just say I’m not going with them this year.”

“You can just say that you won’t go and they’d be like, ‘oh okay, bye?’” Harry mimics Louis’ mom waving. “‘See ya in a week?’”

“They pay someone a thousand dollars a week to watch and clean the place while we’re gone,” Louis leans forward and whispers. “I’m saving them money and the headache of having me around. It’s a win-win.”

That makes Harry laugh, and Louis laughs, too. He’s serious, though. He’s going to find a way to have a party this summer. Especially with Harry living with him. It’d be a blast.

“Thanks for lunch, Louis,” Harry says once they finish their drinks and have finished chatting about random things going on at school.

Louis smiles. “This wasn’t lunch. This was a snack.”

“Thanks, though,” Harry maintains. “I really liked it. This place is really...cute.”

They stand up together, and Louis stretches. He puts his hand on the small of Harry’s back. “You’re really cute,” he says quietly.

Harry’s silent, and he does this thing with his mouth when he’s about to smile too big and doesn’t want to, so instead, his lips end up looking like they’re pursed together.

“Hey, why don’t you see if you can work here since you like it so much?” Louis suggests just as they’re approaching the door. “Want me to ask?”

Harry freezes. “I can do it,” he says. “Can you wait outside for me, though?”

Louis goes outside without responding. Harry’s always been shy about doing stuff like this in front of other people. Even when he has to do something simple like order a pizza, he goes in the other room to make the phone call.

When Harry walks out again, Louis can tell he’s bummed, so he takes his hand on the way out to the car and swings it energetically back and forth. “Not hiring?”

“They said I should come back when I’m a little older,” Harry mumbles.

Louis tries to lighten the mood. “Yeah, I think the average age in there is about sixty. You’re just a few years off.”

  
_____________________________________________________________

  
Harry doesn’t do any packing that night because Zayn invites him over for a sleepover. He invites a few other people, too, but Will’s the only other one that actually comes, and Harry’s grateful because he doesn’t have to feel awkward about being himself around people he doesn’t really know well. He feels comfortable enough around Zayn and Will to be shirtless.

They all are, actually. Shirtless and in boxers or pajama-pants, they lounge around on Zayn’s carpeted floor and listen to music while eating popcorn and chatting.

“Are you finally gonna tell us what Liam did to piss you off so much?” Will asks after a while, lying against a bean-bag chair and flipping through a magazine.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “He went to Hutchinson’s party and I heard him and some omega slow-danced together. And some other omega went into heat there, and I heard he was with her in the bathroom or something.”

“Asshole,” Will says.

Harry’s eyes get large. “Oh, no…”

“And I thought that maybe, you know, after Valentine’s Day and all, when he didn’t get me a single thing, that, you know, maybe he’s just stupid and I’ll keep him around to let him prove himself to me. But no. Fuck it. That crap just made it all worse. I’ve been wasting my time letting him get to know me and he clearly doesn’t care at all.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” Harry starts, but Will interrupts him.

“Alphas are shit.”

“Alphas are shit,” Zayn agrees. “I told him he can talk to me when he’s ready to say sorry. Which is going to be never. He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong, so he won’t apologize. So that’s where we are, and that’s where we’re gonna stay.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Of course. Arrogant like all Alphas. You know what Calvin told me the other day? He’s been giving me every line in the book, really, but he’s desperate now. He said I shouldn’t be interested in any female Alphas because he can give me more than they can. Can you believe that? We had sex, like, one time, and he was so nervous he couldn’t even knot. So please.”

“No way!” Zayn shouts. He’s been drinking a lot of soda, so he’s louder than Harry’s ever seen him. “When?!”

“When’d we have sex? Last summer, when we were together,” Will casually answers.

“Will!” Harry exclaims in a loud whisper. “How did you keep that a secret for this long?”

Will shrugs. “It wasn’t anything special. Maybe I wanted to forget about it.”

“You lost your virginity and you didn't even tell us.” Zayn shakes his head. “Jerk.”

“It really wasn't that great. I kinda regret it.”

“So which Alphas have you been talking to?” Harry asks, scooting closer to the circle and munching on popcorn. His friends never tell him anything, so he’s excited to finally get to gossip. “Calvin doesn’t like girl Alphas?”

Will finally drops the magazine he’s holding. “No, his ego is just wounded. He’s butt-hurt that I don’t want to get back together. Anyway, I’m talking to Amanda.”

Zayn nods in consideration. “Amanda’s a good choice.”

“She’s very pretty,” Harry says nicely.

Will doesn’t say much to that. “She’s treating me fine now, so we’ll see. It’s just a matter of time, though.”

“Before what?” Harry asks.

“Before she gets Alpha-y and shows me a side of her I don’t like.”

Harry frowns. “That’s a bad outlook on life.”

“Well, we can’t all be with someone perfect like you are, Harry. It’s just the way it is.”

“Louis’s not perfect,” Harry mumbles.

“Still hasn’t kissed you, huh?” Will asks. “Guess he’s not perfect after all. He’s got no balls.”

“He does, too, have balls,” Harry retaliates.

“So it’s your fault then? You bein’ too shy?”

“I don’t think so,” Harry honestly answers. “I really don’t. I’ve been getting better.”

Zayn gives him a look.

“I have!” Harry maintains. “I’ve been doing this thing where, like, I try to pretend I’m not me, so sometimes it’s easier to actually say the stuff that I say and act the way that I do around him. So I’m not so embarrassed.”

“That’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” Will states.

Zayn hits him. “It makes sense. But maybe not the best way to go about it…”

“Well, I’ve got to change something, don’t I? But it’s getting...a lot. Like, we haven’t kissed yet, but still. I feel like--I almost feel like I’m about to go into heat when I’m with him,” Harry whispers. “Like, when he--when he touches me or something. I get all hot and...stuff.”

The looks on their faces would almost be funny if Harry wasn’t being completely serious. “What?” he asks, looking between his two friends. He thought this would be a good time to talk about personal things, but maybe not.

Zayn has the funniest look on his face. “ _What_ are you even talking about?”

“Yeah, Harry,” Will says, rolling over onto his stomach now. He throws some popcorn in his smirking mouth and starts chewing. “Do tell.”

“I just...you know,” Harry says awkwardly, looking away and shrugging.

Will just keeps smirking, looking amused as hell, and Zayn stares, too.

Harry huffs. “I get...come on guys, are you gonna make me say it?”

“Say what?” Zayn asks.

Harry narrows his eyes.

Will swallows his food and innocently asks, “Are you trying to say that when you’re around him you get wet?”

Zayn starts laughing just as Harry’s ears start turning red.

“It’s alright,” Zayn tells Harry. “We’re all omegas here, aren’t we?”

“There are ways to take care of it, you know,” Will says. “You don’t just have to sit in your own slick all night.”

“I--But we haven’t even had our first kiss,” Harry reminds them. “Not really, at least...I don’t think that’s something...I mean. Don’t most people wait until they’re, like, actually dating to...?”

Will’s shoulders shake in held-in laughter and amusement, “I meant, you. You could just take care of it on your own. When you’re alone.”

“What do you mean, on my own?” Harry asks. He gives Zayn a sharp look and falls back to lay completely horizontally on the floor. “Would you two stop laughing at me?”

“C’mon, Harry...you know what he means,” Zayn answers. “Just do what you do when you’re actually in heat. Just...outside of your heat. You don’t have to wait ‘til you’re in heat to do that stuff, you know. That’s all Will’s saying.”

“What? You mean cry and roll around on my bed?” Harry huffs again.

“No, I mean, do what you do to take care of it,” Zayn simply says. “If it gets too much or whatever.”

“That is what I do to take care of it.” Harry looks blankly from Zayn to Will who eventually just stare blankly back at him.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” Harry finally sits up and asks, frowning. “I don’t get what you’re trying to say. That is what I do to take care of it,” he repeats.

“You have to be joking!” Will exclaims. “Harry, that’s what you’ve been doing all these years?”

“Um.” Harry swallows, uncomfortable now. He sits back up and pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them. “I mean...Well...What do you do?”

“No, what do you do?” Will asks again. “Because, Harry, man...good Lord…”

Harry’s growing increasingly more embarrassed. “I told you…I roll around and, like...rub against the sheets…”

Will sits up, too, and pushes the popcorn bowl away from him. “Define ‘rub against the sheets.’”

Harry looks to Zayn, and Zayn just raises his eyebrows.

“I....I bunch up all the pillows and stuff and...you know.” Harry won’t say out loud that he sits on his pillows and humps all his sheets until his abs hurt and everything’s soaked, but that’s what he does. He thought all omegas did when they’re in heat. “Isn’t that what you do?”

“When I was twelve, yeah,” Will says quietly.

“I--” Harry starts, then clamps his mouth shut. “I touch it sometimes, too,” he mutters.

“There we go,” Zayn says, chuckling. “That’s what he’s talking about.”

“But it doesn’t help.”

Zayn looks confused. “Why wouldn’t it help?”

Will stands up on his knees and walks to Harry’s side. “Stop. Stop, stop, stop. What are you talking about? Harry, it’s just us. You don’t have to be so shy now of all times. What do you mean it doesn’t help? What are you doing where fingering yourself wouldn’t help?”

Harry’s entire face is beet red as he gasps. “I don’t do that, that’s for mates!”

“Oh, so you--” Zayn says, making a pulling motion with his hand at the front of his pajamas.

Will rolls his eyes. “Well, no wonder, Harry. That’s not gonna do a whole lot of anything. It'll feel good but won't really scratch the itch, know what I mean?”

Harry sits in mortification and just stays quiet.

“Harry, I can’t believe…” Zayn trails off. “You really don’t put anything inside you?”

Harry shrugs helplessly. “I thought that’s for when I’m...I thought that was a mate thing.”

“You’re not serious, dude,” Will gapes.

“Guys, seriously, stop looking at me like that. Is that what you two do?”

For the next five minutes, Harry’s attention is split between the fine strands of hair on the carpet and the object that Zayn pulls out from his nightstand.

“I’ll order you one online,” Zayn quietly enthuses after a few moments. “It’ll be a late birthday gift.”

“It’ll change your world, Harry,” Will adds on. “I have one that has five different settings--”

Harry drops his mouth open. “No. If you do that, I’ll murder you both alive. I’ll use my--I’ll just try my fingers.”

“Baby steps,” Will says, nodding. “Good idea.”

“This is the worst. When am I even gonna be able to do that?” Harry backs up to the bed and hits his head against the side of the mattress. “I’m gonna be moving in with him soon.”

“Do it in the bath or something,” Zayn offers.

“Or in Louis’ bed when he’s at work,” Will adds on. He and Zayn both grin wickedly.

Harry reaches out his foot and kicks Will.

“If it’s this bad now,” Will says, pushing Harry’s foot away and grinning, “imagine it when you live with him. You’re gonna stink the whole house up.”

Harry covers his face with both his hands and groans.

 

* * *

  
The next Friday, Louis drives to his house after school and plays music he knows Harry likes. Once they’re there, Harry drags his backpack upstairs into Louis’ room. Instead of taking a seat at the desk, he hops on the bed beside Louis, sighs, and pulls out a heavy book from his bag. Louis puts some pillows behind his back and starts playing a video game on mute. He knows taking Harry home with him every day after school that he doesn’t work is keeping him from packing, which means it’s just stalling him from actually moving in, but he can’t help it. He just wants Harry with him all the time, even doing nothing. Even doing nothing while Louis desperately thinks of doing something.

A long time passes, so much that Louis notices it’s dark outside when Harry finally pushes his notebook and textbook away from himself and stretches out, rubbing his eyes. “So much freakin’ work. All the freakin’ time.”

“Thought you were doin’ it all at lunch,” Louis pauses the game and teases.

“I’ve been sitting with Zayn again now that he and Liam--I don’t know. Aren’t talking or whatever.”

“So you sit with Zayn but he’s never even told you what happened?”

“Oh, he did,” Harry says, yawning. “Sort of. I think they just need to talk, you know? I think there’s just a misunderstanding ‘cause Liam seems really nice, and I think he really likes Zayn. And I think maybe it’s the same between your friend Calvin and Will, too. I don't know. He seems like he really cares about Will, so...”

“Yeah.” Louis has to hear about Will enough from Calvin that he’s started to tune it out. He thinks the roses he’s started to tape to Will’s locker on a weekly basis is a bit much, though.

Louis throws his controller off the bed and stretches out with Harry, letting his eyes roam. He's happy that it’s finally shorts weather again. Harry’s legs look good in them. “So do you see Will a lot during the day?” he asks, yawning.

Harry shakes his head. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“No lunch?”

“He has first block.”

Louis should already know this. He makes a face. “That’s early as hell. That's like Calvin. Wonder if they sit together.”

“Calvin doesn't tell you stuff like that?”

“If he does, I don’t listen,” Louis laughs. “He’s a cheater. Got what he deserved, I guess.”

Harry nods. “I think maybe he deserves a second chance, but I don't know. Will won't do it.”

Louis lays quietly for a little bit. Thinking of cheating has now made him think about Ashton, and he knows that’s probably what Harry’s thinking about now too. Louis’s forcefully not brought up the topic about the fight that almost happened between them, but if he’s honest, it’s always in the back of his mind. He wonders if Ashton has tried to contact Harry in the past few weeks or if he heard the warning loud enough to finally fuck off.

“So, that other guy you used to sit with at lunch--” Louis won’t say his name, he _won’t_ \-- “So...he doesn’t sit at your table anymore either?”

“Who?”

“The Alpha guy that used to sit across from Liam.”

"Oh,” Harry comments curiously. “Not at all. His name’s Ashton. He sits with his boyfriend now.”

“So...since he’s got a new boyfriend, so...with you two… It’s, like, completely over between you?” Louis asks.

Harry’s brows pull together. “Huh?”

Keeping his eyes on Harry, Louis stays nonchalant. Nonplussed. “Didn’t--? Like...you two had something going on together ? Practicing courting for a while there or something?”

Louis immediately scents mortification coming off Harry, but his voice hides it well, though, when he clearly asks, “Who told you that?”

Louis shrugs. “...I just...heard it around.”

The embarrassment coming off Harry turns into sharp irritation, and before Harry can say anything, Louis quickly changes tactics. “I mean, I get it. I didn’t mean to--No one wants...Practice is a … can be a good thing, right? I get it. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was just asking.”

Harry doesn’t say anything to that either, and Louis’ first instinct is to keep talking to not make it weird, even though he already has, and even though he’s desperately waiting to hear Harry say something that confirms if this guy has finally stopped messing with Harry or not, Louis keeps blabbing away. “Because…” He shakes his head. How fucking pathetic can he get. “He doesn’t--You don’t do that with him anymore?”

Harry looks very confused. Louis doesn’t blame him; Louis doesn’t normally talk about things like this. But he has to now. These are things his book said he needs to do. Open communication with your omega. But when Harry shakes his head, still with a strange look on his face, Louis can’t help but feel the most relief he has in a long time that he doesn’t have to go more into it. He trusts Harry. He’d tell Louis if Ashton were still messing with him. Well, he’s supposed to. Louis told him when they were kids that he better come to Louis with that stuff. Why he didn’t come to Louis the second Ashton hurt his feeling is still a big question mark.

Well, why he didn’t come to Louis for the practice _itself_ is actually a big question mark.

Things are awkward. Harry finally shuffles on top of the sheets and mumbles, “Why did you ask?” and Louis contemplates being honest or not.

“It’s just--well. I was just curious,” Louis starts, messing with his athletic shorts before finally looking over to Harry again. “Why you didn’t just come to me for that?”

Harry doesn’t respond right away. He blinks slowly. “Come to you for...?”

“For...the courting stuff. The...practice or whatever..” Louis shrugs easily. “I could’ve been the one to help you if you wanted that. You could’ve...just asked me.”

There’s already a huge blush creeping up from Harry’s neck, something that Louis’s used to but also doesn’t really know how to understand completely. He wants to know what exactly feeling he’s embarrassed about.

“No, it’s--We--” Harry immediately starts bumbling, but then he breaks off. His head’s been resting on Louis’ pillow, but as he sits up a bit, Louis does, too.

“If it’s something you still wanna do, we...could. I could,” Louis suggests. “We could practice together.”

Harry drops his mouth. “Practice together?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, his eyes aligned with Harry’s.

Harry looks down for a brief second. “Wait. You mean, like, practice...what?”

Louis swallows. “Kissing,” he says as calmly as he can. He’s meeting Harry where he’s at, that’s all.

It’s stupid as shit and Harry’s going to hate him. What the fuck is he doing.

“Practice kissing,” Harry repeats. “Practice kissing.”

“Yeah...”

Harry points to himself. “With me?”

Louis answers quietly. “Well, since that’s why...” He clears his throat and regains his confidence. “Why not just do it with me? Someone you already know?”

Harry just blinks. “I…”

“It’d be better with me than with some other Alpha, right?” Louis keeps going when Harry breaks off. “You trust me, right?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers immediately. “Of course.”

“Then. Why not? We kissed that one time, and I wasn't that bad...right?”

If he’s not imagining it, he just sounded extremely sleazy and maybe even sort of pushy at the same time. And he didn’t even mean to say any of that at all; it just came out. But if that’s the level that Harry’s at--like, he just wants practice for now and nothing else--Louis can do that. Louis can definitely do that. He can practice holding hands if Harry wants to. All the mate stuff can come later. That’s too much to think about in high school, anyway.

The blush on Harry’s face is redder, and as the silence goes on too long, Louis can’t breathe. He feels like an elephant is sitting on his chest.

Harry finally looks over to Louis and drawls in that scratchy-deep voice of his, “Because you’re so skilled. D’you realize how conceited you sound?”

And the weight on Louis’ chest is now suffocating. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s fucked up. He thought he was doing things at a good pace, you know, not pushing anything, basically asking for permission now, but... Harry doesn’t want him.

It hurts. It hurts like shit that Harry would approach a random Alpha for practice and not Louis himself, but he doesn’t want Harry to see him sulk about it. He sits up more fully and moves to the side of the bed. Running his hands through his hair and staring down at the carpet, he shakes his head and mutters, “Look, Haz, I--” just as Harry starts giggling, a pretty sound starting in his belly and traveling up and outwards until it becomes a full-body laugh that makes all of his teeth show. Louis immediately whips around to see Harry holding his stomach and grinning.

Louis squints his eyes. “You liked it,” he accuses, moving back to the middle of the bed and grinning back at Harry. “You did like it when we kissed.”

Still laughing, Harry sticks out his tongue. “It was awful,” he says, shaking his head.

“Lies. You liked it, and you know it.” The happy feelings melting off Harry spur Louis to get even closer to him, going so far as to reach out and tickle his sides for lack of knowing what else to do. Whatever gloom was just inside him has completely been forgotten, and he’s so happy inside it’s freaking weird. He just wants Harry to keep smiling, to keep not being mad at him for this ludicrous proposal. “You do want to practice with me. You want to practice with me ‘cause I’m such a hunk.”

With his body curled up like a bug, Harry can’t stop laughing. “Stop tickling me, stop tickling me, stop tickling me!” When Louis does, Harry rubs his belly and tries to regain his breathing. “When did you get so strong, jeez…”

“The offer still stands,” Louis says, tongue in cheek. “Just saying. Since apparently you can’t deny I’m irresistable at worst and absolutely dreamy at best.”

Harry looks at Louis and rolls his eyes.

Louis gets closer to Harry once more, now magnetized and unable to stop touching him. “Did you just _roll your eyes at me_?” he asks.

“Maybe.” Harry squints them. “What’d’ya gonna do about it?”

Louis suddenly lunges, tackling Harry flat on the mattress. They both laugh as Harry rolls around and struggles, and he fights back enough that Louis’s forced to grab his wrists and trap them above his head so he’ll keep still. He still wiggles around, panting, and Louis presses his body against Harry’s until he has Harry on his back, completely submitted. When Harry’s still, just his chest rising and falling, Louis feels victorious.

Suddenly Louis realizes the intimate position they’re in. The bulk of Louis’ weight is to Harry’s side so he won’t crush him, but his chest is against Harry’s rapidly-moving one and one thick leg restrains both of Harry’s at once. Their faces are barely an inch apart. Louis's pinning him to the bed.

Louis is abruptly aware--acutely aware--of every place his body is touching Harry’s, and he’s never been more turned on in his life, he swears it. Not even the middle of his rut feels this good. He has to scoot more to the side so Harry won’t tell. Things are suddenly--madly--electrifying.

Both Louis’ and Harry’s smiles slowly drop. Harry’s now looking up at Louis and is quickly breathing, eyes that are normally bright and doey now all dark and full of desire. Does Louis even know what desire looks like? This must be what it looks like.

“You win,” Harry whispers. His breath is coming in quick little pants against Louis’ lips. They’re so close.

“I win,” Louis repeats. He licks his lips. Shit, he’s going to kiss him. He’s going to kiss Harry. He honestly doesn’t know what the plan is here. And he wants to have some type of--something. Some type of...he can’t think. He keeps staring at Harry’s mouth. “So, uh, when…”

He’s just going to do it. And it’s making him more vulnerable than he can ever remember feeling in his life.

“I’m waiting,” Harry just quietly whispers, and Louis gives a suppressed laugh.

“Right,” he answers dumbly, his voice a whisper while his face falls in the seriousness of what he’s about to do. He drops his hands from Harry’s wrists to bring one down to his stomach instead. “When we kissed before...you remember it, don’t you?”

Louis’s been following his own hand touching the fabric of Harry’s blue shirt, and he lifts his eyes up to Harry just in time to see him nod. His eyes look like two dark aquamarine gems, and Louis tries not to die. “You liked it?”

Harry nods again.

“Me, too.” And then he leans in.

Louis brushes his lips across Harry’s, just once--an experiment, a question--and then opens his eyes. Harry’s blue ones slowly open, too, but they lazily close again when Louis goes back in and more confidently flutters his lips against Harry’s once more. This time, he applies just the barest of pressure, pausing to enjoy this unreal moment. The feel of Harry, the sweet smell of him, the taste of his lips. Everything. The fact that he’s so close to Harry he can hear his heartbeat makes his chest feel...painful, almost, like it’s so tight he can’t breathe, and he can’t explain it, but it’s the best feeling imaginable. He’s tingling.

Harry twitches his legs a little. Snapping out of his shock, Louis goes back in and presses his lips against Harry’s again because Harry’s letting him, and soon they’re in some kind of unsure rhythm that’s awkward and exciting, but when their lips start moving in tandem, Louis just lets instinct take over.

Louis groans a little and tilts his head to the side to try for a better angle, tangling his left hand in Harry’s curls and his right around Harry’s back. Thinking of every image from every movie with any kissing scene ever made, he tries to remember how to even kiss at all since it’s been so long, but in the end, the feeling of Harry responding is too much, and he can’t think at all.

For a few more moments, they continue that way--unskillfully soft lips meeting smaller, more confident ones--until Louis breaks his mouth away because he feels he’ll start grinding into the sheets if he doesn’t. There’s the smack of the suction from their mouths being broken, and the two lay still, panting. Louis can’t take his eyes off Harry.

Harry hums--a soft, pleased sound--which spurs Louis into whispering his name, just to remind himself that it’s really him, that that really just happened. They kissed. He finally kissed Harry. And it was better than anything Louis ever dreamed.

Harry’s hair is messy around his face, and his cheeks are flushed, his lips swollen and open, and Louis gushes or something. There’s never been anyone this stunning. Why hasn’t he done this earlier?

“Wow,” Louis hears Harry whisper, and he swells with pride. His grin takes up half his face. He laughs a little, forehead pressing down against Harry’s, and then he moves his leg so he’s completely beside Harry, not draping over him.

He feels like going back in for more, but he needs to calm down before his pants explode, so he sits up fully and adjusts himself. No one talks.

“Did you want to stay for dinner?” Louis finally asks.

“I want to, but...Mom wanted me home an hour ago,” Harry quietly answers. He lifts his head and pushes himself up to sit next to Louis. “We’re supposed to be packing together. For real this time.”

Louis softly smiles. Just a few more weeks. “I’ll--I’ll take you back.”

There’s a strange feeling in the car that evening. Harry doesn’t sing. Once Louis arrives to his home, Harry steps out of the car to walk outside sort of awkwardly, but before he can fumble his words, Louis acts on impulse and pulls him back in by the hand, pecking him messily on the mouth before telling him goodnight.

 

* * *

 

  
Harry leisurely strolls inside his house, hands in his pockets. Once he’s inside, he ignores his mom in the living room putting items in boxes, drops his backpack to the floor, and runs as fast as he can to his room.

“Oh, my God, Will, I need to talk to you,” Harry urgently says into his phone once he’s dialed the correct number. His nervous fingers fumble around so much it takes three tries to get it right. “How fast can you be here?”

Ten minutes later, Will is on Harry’s bed with his face scrunched in confusion. “Let me get this straight,” he starts. “You were doing homework, and then you started talking, and he just casually brings up the practice thing with Ashton, then suddenly he’s making out with you. And now you’re here.”

Trying to hold in his gleeful smile, Harry bites his lip as Will repeats the story. “Um. Yes. Correct. He drove me home and...yes. I’m here now.”

“And you’re not... _offended_ by any of that?”

Harry drops the hand he’s just brought up to his mouth, having already chewed all the fingernails down so low they hurt. Maybe it’s just been an excuse to touch his own lips, but he doesn’t care. He’s still so elated he doesn’t even know what to do with himself.

“Offended? Why would I be offended?”

“What he said. The practice thing. You’re not upset that he thinks you need practice kissing or something?”

“No,” Harry answers straightaway. “But may I mention, you dick, that the reason that even came up in the first place is because somehow he thinks that I went to Ashton for kissing practice? And that we had some kind of thing together or something?”

“How does that make me a dick?”

“You told Cal something,” Harry answers. “I know you did. That’s the only connection. That’s the only way Lou would’ve known about anything. And now he thinks--oh, no, what if he thinks I’m totally pathetic? I bet he does. I bet he only said any of that at all ‘cause he thinks that’s what me and Ashton were doing together, and he thinks I’m just really desperate to learn how to kiss or something. Maybe he feels sorry for me...”

“Oh my God,” Will groans. For already the tenth time of the night, he makes a face. “Either way, you’re completely okay with him just saying, ‘Hey, instead of practicing with him, you can just practice with me’? That doesn’t seem weird to you?”

Harry drops his mouth. “No weirder than you finding this stupid random Alpha in the first place and making him sit with me at lunch to freaking give me courting advice! And then freaking telling Calvin all about it! Now look what’s happened.”

“I thought you were excited about it?”

Harry looks down at his lap and plays with the blanket underneath him. “I am.”

Will sighs. “Look, Calvin wasn’t supposed to say anything, but there I go again, trusting him when I know I shouldn’t. But anyway--this is Louis. The Alpha you actually like. Don’t you think you deserve...I don’t know...more than this? Like, a romantic kiss that’s not, like--”

Harry interrupts with a frown, “It was romantic. I thought you’d be happy for me, too,” he mutters. “You know how much I--”

Will shakes his head. “I totally am happy for you. I just don’t want you to end up like me ‘cause of some stupid Alpha.”

Harry blinks. “Loud and bitter?” he drawls jokingly. “Or just suspicious of everyone’s motives?”

“All of the above,” Will laughs. “When Cal cheated on me last summer, I found out that two other people knew the whole time but didn’t tell me because they didn’t want to hurt my feelings. So guess what? My feelings got hurt even worse in the long run ‘cause I let it go on for so long without having a freaking clue what he was doing. So, anyway. Somebody needs to tell friends what they need to hear. And if no one else will do it, then that friend’s gonna be me. Sorry, but I care about you.”

Harry’s finally gone to the carpet to carefully begin placing things from his bookshelf into a big box. “What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t be mad, but I think that Louis’s only offering to give you kissing lessons or whatever the hell he’s calling it as a way to avoid talking about his feelings.”

Harry makes a face in consideration. That’s…actually not the worst thing possible. “Do you really think that’s what it is?”

“I don’t know,” Will says, shrugging. “I don’t know him like you know him, but to me, this sounds a lot like an Alpha just making an excuse to kiss you.”

Harry sighs. “I mean. Maybe. But...”

“Talk through it,” Will suggests, and Harry’s very glad that Will knows him well enough to realize there are a million thoughts in his head that he needs to get out.

Harry finally stops pretending to pack and looks up at Will, sighing. He grabs his hair. “Ah. I just--Look, I don’t think he needs any practice himself,” Harry admits, almost a little sadly. He was very, very skilled. “So that can’t be it. I know he’s kissed people before. He had that girlfriend. But I don’t think he thinks I need practice either. Even if someone made him think that. So...maybe you’re right. I don’t know. But maybe he’s jealous of Ashton or something? Why would he have brought up Ashton if he...I don’t know. I can’t figure him out.”

“So you think that maybe this is him, like, competing against Ashton?”

Harry shrugs desperately. “What do you think?” he frets.

“Well, if he’s making up this whole practicing thing because he doesn’t want you kissing someone else, then that’s not good either, man. Possessive Alphas are not okay.”

“No, no, it’s not like that, either,” Harry maintains. “It’s Louis.”

“Yes, I know he walks on water, but still.”

“This is good, though, right? Him competing for me? Isn’t that a good thing? Ashton said that it’s a way that--”

“As long as he’s letting you make your own choices, then I’m okay with it.”

“Thanks for your approval.” Harry rolls his eyes. “But what do you think? Do you think that’s what he’s doing?”

“What do you think?” Will counters. “What does it feel like to you?”

Harry closes his eyes. He still feels Louis right next to him, like a presence that’s clinging to him like static. He wants to curl up in the feeling and never let go of it.

There was nothing impure about the kiss. Harry has literally nobody else to compare Louis to, but he’s not stupid. It was an emotional kiss. There were emotions there. There was nothing to indicate that Louis felt anything different than what Harry already feels, nothing to suggest that he was only doing it to claim Harry as a prize to be won or something. And if Harry has to be completely honest with himself, that wouldn’t’ve been so bad, either.

“I think...maybe he wants to be with me but maybe he doesn’t exactly know it yet,” Harry finishes hopefully, eyes squeezed shut. When he’s finished speaking, he opens them tentatively, looking up at Will.

“Which is exactly what I said to start with, you idiot,” Will says, laughing. “He’s making all this up because he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings!”

“You said he doesn’t want to talk about his feelings,” Harry corrects, holding up a finger. “I said he doesn’t know his feelings yet.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

Harry chews on the inside of his mouth. “Go along with it,” he answers quietly.

“Really? To make him realize his feelings? Or like, make him want a relationship?”

Or a mate. “Yes. Maybe...maybe if I’m good enough, maybe...Maybe he’ll realize I’m the only person he wants, too,” Harry finishes lamely.

“You’re going to try to win him over by pretending you need practice kissing,” Will clarifies. “Instead of just telling him the truth.”

“And risk embarrassing myself in front of him? The one person that I really, really, don’t want to freak out? If I come on all strong with my feelings when he doesn’t even know his yet, it’ll scare him, Will. Alphas need time to figure that stuff out, don’t they?”

Will sighs. “This can either end up very good or very bad.

 

* * *

  
The next week, Louis’ family welcomes Harry, Gemma, and Anne into their home with open arms, giving Harry mixed feelings of graciousness and anxiety. His family has moved in boxes little-by-little recently, but they weren’t supposed to actually move in until the weekend. Now, on a school night, Harry unexpectedly stands with his sister and mom outside Louis’ big house with a suitcase and a pillow in his hands.

Harry steps in after Gemma and Anne do, immediately greeted by Jay with a hug.

Harry puts down his stuff and wraps his arms around Jay, and looks ahead to see Louis far away in the kitchen. He’s at the small kitchen table wearing headphones, and in his hands he’s holding a piece of paper, muttering to himself. When one of his sisters accidentally slams the front door against the wall, he lifts his head.

Louis’ eyes meet Harry’s, and in an instant, Harry finds himself exiting Jay’s embrace and leaning forward. It’s the strongest thing, like he’s being drawn in by a string--then, all at once, little arjms wrap around his calves, and he’s shocked enough to yelp.

Louis’s suddenly in the foyer with everyone else, shooing his sisters away from Harry. “No one told me you were coming over tonight,” he says, bending down to pick up Harry’s suitcase.

“Yeah, uh. I didn’t know myself. Is that okay?”

“No, of course. Just thought--” He shakes his head. “Hi, Anne. Hi, Gemma.”

“Hello,” Gemma just says.

“Hi,” Harry’s mom says nicer. She hugs him from the side.

Louis looks down at Fizzy, Phoebe, and Daisy. “Would you please let them all breathe?”

Harry puts a hand on Daisy’s hair and chuckles, “‘S all right.”

“We’ve got your room ready, Harry!” Phoebe excitedly tells him.

“Come on,” Fizzy says, taking Harry’s hand and pulling him firmly. As he follows along, he glances back at Louis and smiles.

Normally Harry walks in the house and towards the left since that’s where the main rooms are. Upstairs are the bedrooms and downstairs are the den, kitchen, and dining room. Even further down is the basement with a few other rooms. He’s never really gone to the right side of the house before, but he can’t take the time to really look around because before he knows it, he’s in a large, wall-papered room filled with big, antique furniture.

“Ta-da!” Daisy and Phoebe sing together.

Harry drops Fizzy’s hand and stands completely still, looking around with his mouth wide open. “Well, this,” he starts. “This is just--”

“Completely dreadful,” Louis finishes for him from behind. He steps fully in the room beside Harry and places the suitcase on the floor. “I’m real sorry this is the room you have to stay in. I would’ve had it more ready, but, like I said, no one told me you were actually coming today, so it’s all crappy looking. I wasn’t gonna take care of it ‘til tomorrow. Some of your boxes are in the corner, though, so--”

“Sorry,” Harry apologizes. “I really didn’t even know myself that we were coming over tonight. It was just sort of a--paperwork thing with the house, Mom said?”

“No, don’t say sorry. It’s just--I feel bad for you. This room is full of--oh my God, this stuff is so old.” He touches a doily on a small table next to the door and cringes. “I...I think I can smell the nineteen-hundreds.”

“I’m an old lady at heart,” Harry replies happily, shrugging as he walks around to look at everything, touch everything. He stops in front of a giant sewing machine in the corner of the room. “Ooh, and I’ve always wanted to learn how to sew, too. Be a proper omega.” He wags his eyebrows, feeling daring.

Louis sits down on the bed, and his sisters jump on it behind him. “You don’t have to sew to be a proper omega.”

“It’d give me bonus points.” He looks at the window behind the sewing machine and reaches out. “Who could turn down an omega who could make curtains like these?”

“Not many, I’m sure,” Louis laughs.

“Do you like it?” Fizzy asks, jumping up and down.

Harry runs to the bed and sits down on it beside Louis, bouncing on the bed along with Louis’s sisters. “I absolutely love it! This purple bedspread is my all-time favorite.”

Louis laughs. “Take it off. Take it all off. You can put as much of your own stuff in here as you like. I’ll clean all this other crap out tomorrow. It smells like cats in here.”

“No different than my usual smell, then,” Harry banters. Then, after he realizes what he’s said, he stops bouncing. His cat is gone. His face falls.

This past Sunday, Harry invited his closest friends to have a ceremony for Dusty in his backyard. “Cats run away sometimes when they’re really sick,” his mom told him. Coming to terms that this was what happened, Harry just nodded. He cried a lot that day. Well, he’s cried a lot since, actually, but Zayn got him a keychain with Dusty’s name on it that he has in his suitcase right now, so that helped make things a bit better.

“Guys, stop,” Louis finally tells his sisters, jumping on the bed so much that Louis and Harry are bouncing next to one another though they’re sitting still. “Go to the den.”

“But he just got here!”

“Yeah, exactly,” Louis says to them. He grabs Fizzy’s leg. “Leave us alone for a minute. Let Harry chill, would you?”

They exit and run outside to see Gemma and Anne. Louis and Harry sit side-by-side, legs touching.

“Do you think you can sleep on this tonight?” Louis asks. “The sheets are clean, but I think the mattress sinks in the middle.”

“It’s fine,” Harry tells him, waving it off. He’s trying desperately to be normal, but he’s alone with Louis for the first time since they kissed, and he can’t think of anything but the kiss.

“I’ll move it all this weekend.”

“Well.” Harry says, clearing his throat. “You don’t have to move the furniture for me or anything. It can stay. Really. I don’t know how long we...you know….we’re gonna be here.”

“I told you, stay as long as you want. We have lots of space. A room for each of you.” Louis stands up, looking around and touching the wallpaper. “This one may be the worst right now, but it has potential.”

“Yeah. Well, as long as I have a bed, I’m happy.”

Louis looks at said bed and doesn’t respond to Harry. Harry clears his throat. He has to get better at this. He must. Ashton told him that Alphas like forward omegas. Omegas that say what they want, that take charge sometimes. While Harry can’t be that omega completely, he can work towards it. He stands up, too, casually walking beside Louis. He pretends to look around at the room.

“So, um. I was wondering about--” Harry stops talking and shakes his head. Louis looks at him curiously, and Harry squeezes his hands into fists behind his back and amends his sentence. “I’ve been thinking about last weekend a lot...”

Louis looks up and flicks some hair out of his eyes. “Have you?”

Harry nods. He’s looking at Louis now, vaguely. In the general direction of Louis’ eyes. The fact that he can’t actually meet them doesn’t matter. He’s trying so hard.

“I, uh. I was wondering. Would you like to...um...Do you want to...you know. Keep doing that? With me?”

Real eloquent, Harry. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Louis, beautiful and perfect Louis, says “of course,” and then Harry lets all the air in his chest out at once, smile suppressed by his nerves when Louis steps closer to him.

Harry can smell him now. Really smell him. Like his breath and his skin and his cologne, just like last time. There should be some fear, but there isn’t. It’s easy. Harry’s heart is a bit fluttery, but when he looks at Louis and they both smile at each other like nerds, Harry relaxes against the wall. Louis steps impossibly closer and drops his hands to Harry’s waist.

“Like you even had to ask,” Louis mutters. His thumb moves against Harry’s hipbone, and Harry shifts his legs, squeezes his eyes shut, and parts his mouth. He doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to keep Louis from smelling what’s going on in his underwear.

As Harry opens his eyes, he wants to moan at the look Louis’s giving him. Instead, he feels like drool is forming in his mouth as his face gets closer to Louis’, and then, they’re kissing.

For just a few moments it’s slow and unsure, but then it picks up speed when Harry puts his hands on Louis’s shoulders, loosely touching, and they really, really begin kissing. It’s no longer a small, hesitant kiss anymore, but an actual make-out kiss, and suddenly, Harry can’t feel his legs. The give-and-take of their mouths together give him the feeling of being immersed in flowing water, floating and drowning both at once.

Louis hadn’t done this with his tongue last time. Harry had known it was there but had barely felt it, but it’s in Harry’s mouth. Each time it makes contact with Harry’s own tongue, every vein running through Harry’s body throbs, and he’s drowning. It sounds like something out of those omega novels his grandma has, but it’s true. He didn’t even know kissing could be like this. It feels so heavenly he wants to make noises, but something tells him not to so he just holds onto Louis tighter and tries to be as good as he is.

When Harry slumps against the wall a little, Louis just chases his mouth. Harry feels him tilt his head to the side and improve the angle of the kiss, and when this just makes his tongue go in deeper, Harry can’t help the sound that escapes him then. A noise similar to the one he made when Louis first kissed him all those years ago leaves his mouth, some kind of omega trill that vibrates on Louis’ tongue, and then, many things abruptly happen at once.

Louis lifts a hand to the back of Harry’s neck while growling into Harry’s mouth, and despite feeling hard teeth, Harry moves his mouth and tongue even faster against Louis’ on instinct alone. Louis presses his body firmly against Harry’s, and Harry gasps, distinctly feeling wetness seep out of him. This brings him back to reality enough to actually whimper.

“Louis,” he whispers urgently, backing his mouth away. Louis just keeps growling nonstop, sounding like a low, pleasant hum to Harry’s ears--his mouth still right there--but Harry drops his hands to Louis’ chest and repeats, “Louis.”

Louis drops his hand from Harry’s hair then and shakes his head like there are bees inside. He widely opens his eyes and looks down at his torso. “Sorry,” he apologizes, taking a huge step back.

Harry’s feet pigeon-toe on the carpet. He clears his throat. “What? For...kissing me?”

“For getting carried away like that.” Louis turns to the side and runs a hand through his hair, panting. “I didn’t mean…”

“Oh.” Harry’s still looking down, quietly trying to catch his breath. “ liked it.”

“I liked it, too.”

That...that was intense. Harry wonders if this is what it’s like for everybody when they kiss, this feeling of bliss and want mixed with unknown tension

Louis turns back to Harry and gets a little closer, though not nearly as close as before. “I won’t be so, um...harsh next time. If...you know...”

“I liked it,” Harry repeats quietly, and Louis just chuckles, turning up his face to stare at the ceiling and groan.

“I’m glad you liked it,” he responds just as quietly, meeting Harry’s eyes again, “but maybe not the best idea with my sisters right down the hall, huh.”

“Sorr--”

“Don’t,” Louis cuts off. He gets closer to Harry again, and Harry’s glad he’s not the only one who’s experiencing this magnetizing feeling running all around in his body. He’s thrilled when Louis drops his head to rest on his shoulder, keeping it there while he himself calms down his breathing.

“Did you still want to do it?” Harry whispers.

Louis lifts his head. “Kiss?”

Harry nods.

“Do you?”

Harry nods again.

Gemma barges in just at that moment without knocking, and the two abruptly separate. She looks at them both and rolls her eyes before turning her focus on Harry. “Mom wants to see you in her room.”

“Like I know where that is,” Harry mutters, embarrassed.

“Pick a room, any room,” Gemma tells him over her shoulder, walking out. “The one that she’s in is hers.”

Louis has moved to sit on the bed again, and he clears his throat. “It’s a room through a room, actually. Um, step outside and the next door down the hall is sort of like a big closet with crap in it, and go through that door and your mom’s stuff should be in there.”

Harry nods, pausing at the doorway. “Are you okay?”

Louis nods very quickly. “Go on. I’ll be there in a minute.”

 


	15. stay right here and burn in it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, happy readers. First of all, I'm sorry for ghosting for so long. Some of you were aware that I've had some health issues lately, but just briefly, in February I started getting sick (the flu, nothing crazy) but I still posted the previous chapter. Shortly afterward it hit me very hard and got so dehydrated I was hospitalized. Then I got better after a few weeks of recovery but naturally was very behind on real life obligations. When I caught up with that stuff, I began this again, but I'm guessing from where my immune system was so bad I got sick again, for about a week and a half, and I had to break again. That just put me behind on other stuff all over again. I'm very sorry because I know this is the misery of dealing with WIPs but I hope to be back to normal after this!!!

Harry can’t sleep that night. The entire room smells unfamiliar, down to the very sheets he’s covered with, and the house makes different sounds at night than he’s used to hearing, but those aren’t really any of the reasons he’s awake.

He’s excited.

He’s so excited that he feel it aching in his chest--too much feeling in too small a cavity. He’s literally more excited than he’s ever been in his life, more excited than he ever thought possible. Especially for someone who’s just been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known. But, weirdly enough, he’s not even thinking about that. He’s thinking about literally everything _but_ that. His mind just can’t wind down. Won’t. All it can do is replay kissing Louis again and again, on a neverending loop, desperately reliving the memory as if going to sleep might erase everything that just happened.

It doesn’t. Though Harry gets very little actual sleep that night, when he wakes up, his excited brain still fixates on only one thing through his physical exhaustion: _Louis_. His lips feel sore from some type of phantom memory of still being pressed against Louis’, and he can’t stop finding ways to touch them or pick at them or mess with them. Gemma notices.

“You’re gonna go through that whole tube of chapstick if you keep putting so much on,” she side-eyes him and comments while they’re standing at the kitchen island eating breakfast together.

Harry silently pockets his chapstick and goes back to eating his cereal (Louis’ house always has tons of different kinds to choose from), jittery because he can hear Louis upstairs in the shower. _He can hear Louis upstairs in the shower._

It’s his first morning at Louis’ house as an actual resident, not just as a guest. He knows he sort of _is_ just a guest when it comes down to it, but still--this is different. Today’s a school day. Today’s the first morning he’s woken up and hasn’t had to wonder if his dad’s still in the house or if he’s left for work yet, or about what kind of mood he’ll be in when he does get home, or about any of that stuff. He lives at _Louis’_ house now.

Part of him thinks it’s a little ridiculous to be making such a big deal about what happened between him and Louis--what’s _happening_ between him and Louis--but another part of him wants to jump up and down and squeal. He _should_ be making a big deal about it. It’s totally a big deal. Harry’d asked Louis if he wanted to keep kissing him, and _he said yes_. That means they’re going to keep doing it. They’re going to keep kissing. And they freaking live together. Harry could die.

Louis drives Harry to school that morning, and though they’re both too sleepy to speak, the energetic buzz remains floating around between the two of them in the car, like that same static-y feeling that always follows Harry around and sticks to him whenever he’s by Louis’ side. Neither of them speak, though. Gemma’s in the backseat. From time-to-time, Harry looks in the side mirror to see what her expression is, but if she knows anything, she’s not giving it away. She looks no different than any other morning: pretty and bored.

Gemma walks ahead of Louis and Harry when they arrive at the school parking lot, and she’s disappeared by the time Louis and Harry get to their regular table in the cafeteria. Louis walks a little closer to Harry’s side than normal, but besides that, it’s like any other morning together. Harry’s friends give him curious looks, but the atmosphere and the chatting is normal.

It’s not until later that day--the very second that Harry’s alone with Will and Zayn--that he splurges to them, but he immediately thinks he’s shared too much. In general. At least with Will. Will’s gotten increasingly more nosy about Harry’s personal life, and Harry wonders if maybe he shouldn’t have admitted all the personal stuff about his heats at all.

The answer to if he still feels like he’s in heat around Louis? Yes.

The answer to if he’s fingered himself yet? No.

The answer to if he’s kissed Louis again since the first time? No.

But it’s not bad. As always, Louis sits with Harry every morning that week, except for one day when he’s stopped by some people from his theater class exactly as he’s entering the building. Harry leaves his side so he can talk to them, and when he walks alone to the regular table where Will and Zayn are already sitting, he doesn’t expect to feel like he’s left a limb behind.

On this morning, while watching people exit their buses outside through the tall cafeteria windows, Will silently eats an apple, and Zayn reads a book that’s just as thick as the glasses he’s wearing. Will takes a large bite of his fruit, turns to Harry, and suddenly he’s not so silent anymore.

“How you doin’?” he asks with his mouth full.

Harry shrugs. He knows what Will’s getting at. Unfortunately, he and Louis still haven’t kissed again because Louis is actually way more busy outside of school than Harry realized, but it’s okay. Each morning he drives Harry to school and sometimes even stops and buys him breakfast, and it’s absolutely okay.

His friends are probably tired of hearing him gush at any given chance, so Harry downplays it today. “...Good.”

“Glad to hear it’s going good for someone around here.” Will raises his eyebrows in a weird way.

Harry’s pleasant face drops a bit. “I...Well, I’m sorry. What’s wrong?”

“Same ole shit.”

“Where’s Amanda?”

“She’s around somewhere.” Will shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Oh.” Harry frowns. He won’t say it out loud, but maybe the reason Will has such bad opinions about Alphas is because he chooses such bad ones to date. Amanda’s been sitting at their breakfast table every now and then for the past few weeks, but it’s not consistent like it is with Louis. And then whatever Zayn said or did to poor Liam has apparently made him not want to sit at the table anymore at all. Will says Harry’s got Louis whipped to have him sit with him every single day. Harry doesn’t know about all that.

“So have you done it yet?” Will asks next.

Harry’s rubbing crusty bits of sleep out from the insides of his eyes, and he blinks them a few times to try to wake up. “Done what yet?” he slurs lazily, playing dumb though he already knows this was coming. Will’s asked about once a day every day this week. Harry looks down at the table.

Will wags his eyebrows and starts obscenely squirming in his chair until the action gets Harry’s attention.

“Stop,” Harry mutters. “No.”

“That’s crazy. You’ve had all this time,” Will says incredulously.

“I...I guess I will soon.” Harry shrugs again. “My heat’s coming sort of soon, anyway. I think.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t just do it the first night you moved in after what you said happened.”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses, discreetly looking in the direction of Louis. “He’s right there.”

Will cranes his neck and looks to where Louis’s standing nearby talking to the friends from his own grade. “He can’t hear.”

“Still, you’re being too loud…”

Zayn apparently kicks Will from under the table, judging from the noise and Will’s subsequent facial expression. “I’m just _saying_ , you don’t know what you’re missing until you try it, Harry.“ He leans forward and continues, “I told you I can get you a toy, easy. They let just about anybody walk into those stores that sell ‘em. We can go together this weekend if you want. And I’m telling you, they’re way better than any stupid Alpha can do with their own--”

Harry groans and crosses his arms. “Stoppp.”

“Or,” Will offers, “I’ve got a magazine I can give you. If you just want a visual.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably all covered in your slick,” Harry counters.

“Harry,” Will sits up straighter and says. “You’ve got to stop being so damn moody about this, man.”

“Well, you keep pestering me about it. Just--” Harry sighs. “Just lay off.”

Zayn puts down his book and looks between Harry and Will. “Leave him alone, would you, Will? He said he’d do it when he wants to do it.”

Will silently leans back and holds his hands up just as Louis’s approaching the table. He slings his backpack on an empty chair, sits down on another one, and takes in Harry’s expression while scooting closer to him. “Why’s your face so red?”

“It’s hot in here,” Harry mumbles.

“It _is_ hot in here,” Will comments, biting into his apple again.

“Well, it’s not winter anymore,” Louis says in amusement, pulling on Harry’s hoodie. “Time to stop wearing this thing, don’t you think? Unless of course when you’re in the science wing because it’s always fucking freezing back there, ain’t it? That’s where I’m about to go.” He makes a face at Harry, and it’s not even funny, but Harry smiles.

Zayn looks up from his book and chimes in, “The reason it’s so cold is because Mrs. Prescot is going through the change.”

Louis blankly stares at Zayn.

Zayn rolls his eyes. “That thing where older omegas are hot all the time? She yells at all the other science teachers to keep the temperature down low back there, and they do it because she’s always red and sweaty otherwise.”

Louis nods like he’s interested. “Oh...”

“Is that it, Harry?” Will sits up and asks. “Are you actually just really, really old and that’s why you’re so hot?”

Harry lifts his hoodie over his head and yanks his arms out of it, maybe too much in a huff, but Will’s annoyed him enough to last the entire day. Stupid nosy jerk.

Louis touches Harry’s shoulder. “Well, I didn’t mean you had to take it off if you didn’t want to…”

“But he’s hot,” Will comments innocently.

“Will,” Harry says threateningly. “Shut up.”

Louis looks between Will and Harry silently, then scratches behind his ear.

“Are you…” Louis gets even closer to Harry and whispers, “Are you, um. Is it your--Should you be here today?”

Harry incredulously stares at Louis and then back to Will who’s begun chuckling under his breath. “There is nothing...No,” Harry firmly says. “I’m only hot because I was wearing a sweatshirt inside. That is it.”

“Okay…”

And the rest of the day passes with Harry in a relatively bad mood. Even when he gets home that evening. There's an annoyance under his skin. He’s not completely clueless about it, either. He knows it’s because he wants to put something inside himself but has been... he doesn’t know...too afraid...too embarrassed...too _whatever_ to do it.

Louis has to work after school like he normally does, and Harry doesn’t wait up for him like he’s gotten in the habit of doing. Instead, he takes a long shower, locks the door to his room, and climbs under his sheets with one goal on his mind. Tonight, he’s going to do it. He’s gonna go where no man has gone before.

He’s going to finger himself for the first time in his life, and he’s honestly ridiculously nervous about it.

Working up the guts to even get naked, Harry stares at the ceiling of his bedroom for at least ten minutes before finally shucking down his underwear and kicking them off. Taking a deep breath, he reaches his hand down between his legs and under to where he needs to go, feels around for a second, and then--

Nothing.

He tries. He really does try, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works. Well, the fingering part works, essentially--there’s only one real way to do it, Harry supposes--but it doesn’t even feel good. He tries closing his eyes and spreading his legs as he’s in the middle of it, and he even turns around on his stomach to try it that way when things get uncomfortable, but it’s no use. He can’t relax. As embarrassing as it is, he sort of stays permanently damp down there these days, so that’s not an issue. It’s not like it hurts. It’s just not...good.

Maybe this stuff really is supposed to just be for mates. And unfortunately, at the rate things are going so far with Louis, Harry doesn't think they'll be actual mates for a long, long time. Or probably never. The entire plan to make Louis fall for him by practicing kissing was a stupid idea from the start. Harry can realize that now. Louis probably just freaking feels sorry for him. That would explain why he hasn’t tried kissing him again since the first night.

It's funny that all week Harry's been so excited about his new arrangement with Louis. Now all he feels is stupid.

As he slides his underwear back up his legs, he struggles between the two desires of fitfully rolling around in frustration or just trying to masturbate again. He knows _that_ won’t work, so he chooses the first option, and like usual, he can’t sleep that night.

The whole next week passes with no new developments for Harry regarding this situation, and he figures that with his nerves being so high in a house with so many people and so many opportunities to get caught with his hands in between his legs, he has no choice but to wait until his actual heat. He gets in the habit of ignoring Will’s questions the best he can during the school day and secretly trying it again each and every night.

Still, nothing he does makes him feel good, so he knows he’s doing it wrong, and all he does is feel embarrassed and paranoid about it all the time. Especially around Louis. It’s like everyone he comes into contact with can smell what he’s done--or tried to do--and the self-consciousness just makes it hard to get his excitement back.

 

* * *

  


When Louis’s done shoving his magazine under his mattress, he sprays his room down with a can of neutralizer and lays back in bed. Staring at his ceiling, he puts his hands behind his head and thinks. And thinks and thinks.

Spring Break’s coming up in just two weeks. That’s over one whole week off from school. One whole week to hang out with Harry. One whole week--hopefully--for Louis to show off what a good Alpha he is, how good of a provider he can be one day, how better at taking care of Harry than that other guy who just went off and ditched him was. How good of a kisser he is.

After their first time when Louis all-but attacked Harry, he’s been forced to keep it respectful whenever he’s been around him. Unfortunately, that’s meant barely touching him at all for fear of going into rut at any given moment, so Louis’s done nothing but keep his thoughts and pervy fingers to himself. Each and every night.

Seriously--for, like, ten days straight, he’s gotten a boner at least once every hour. _Every hour._ For days. That’s with Harry around or not. It’s a surprise his dick isn’t chafed by now. It takes time and a lot of mysterious showers, but finally, the feeling of constant horniness leaves his system. Now, confident he won’t come in his pants and embarrass himself the second his lips touch Harry’s, he’s ready to go back in for more. There just aren’t any opportunities anymore.

For days, Louis’s been scheming about how he’s going to throw the party at his house he’s been dreaming about doing for forever, fixating on kissing Harry again. Totally privately. Slower, not like an animal. A long kiss. And he’s only thinking of just a smallish party, nothing crazy, but it’ll never work out unless he can get everyone out of the house for at least one entire night.

Normally his family travels for Easter, but Louis’s already begged and begged his mom and uncles to let him stay home alone if everyone else ends up driving somewhere to see extended family. He’s even offered to babysit all the kids if the adults just wanted to go away by themselves (that really just means making Lottie babysit and putting everyone to bed by eight), but no one’s confirmed anything with him yet. And he only has a few short weeks to work with here.

Harry’s mom being in the house is still an issue, but Louis hopes that Gemma will help him out with that one. Maybe. He’s wracked and wracked his brain, and he can’t think of anything else he can do besides offer that they all go on a cruise and just pray that they’ll let him and Harry stay behind.

And that’s real likely. He hardly gets any time alone with Harry as it is, and they freaking live together now. He’s so damn busy now. And when he’s not, there’s always one of his siblings in the damn way, interrupting him and Harry, bothering them. Everyone wants Harry’s attention just as much as Louis himself does, and it sucks that flashing his eyes at his sisters doesn’t make them scared anymore now that they’re older.

But whatever. He’ll make it happen.

On Saturday, after waking up hot and agitated and pissed that he has no new ideas about how to rid his house of the million people that live in it, Louis heads a few doors down to help Mrs. Morris out. It’s barely spring, but the lawns outside already need mowing, and the drive inside Louis can’t pass up on the opportunity to make money, so. There you go--easy. By the time he’s home again, it’s almost noon, and he’s sweaty and stinky and hungry as shit and wants to know why he can’t immediately find Harry when he walks in the door. He smells that he’s been in the foyer.

Louis swiftly walks into the kitchen where he sees his uncle at the small table drinking coffee.

“Is Harry awake?” Louis greets him.

“Hello, fine nephew,” James replies back.

“Where’s Harry?”

“In his room,” James answers. “Took him and his sister shopping this morning. They're putting their stuff away now.”

Louis makes a face. “What’d you take him shopping for?”

“Clothes. Stuff like that.”

“No, I mean, _why_. What if I wanted to go?”

“What do you need to go shopping for? They haven’t gotten new things in a long time. You, on the other hand, literally have everything you need. Including my old car because I’m just awesome like that.”

“Still, that’s crap,” Louis mumbles. “I could've taken him shopping. I just didn’t know he needed anything. I just made seventy dollars.”

James chokes on his drink. “For mowing a lawn?”

“I was there four hours.”

James looks amused. “Well, kid, sorry, but if you weren't around, you weren’t around. Maybe next time. Use the money you just earned to buy him something nice, there’s an idea.”

Louis lifts his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “You’re so annoying sometimes, James.”

“Just giving you a hard time.” James sniffs the air. “But maybe you’re the one who’s being a little moody, wouldn’t you say? Close to heat?”

Louis just growls and walks to the staircase. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Good idea,” James murmurs, looking down at his coffee cup. “You do need some time to cool off, huh? And to plan that big party that you think no one knows about. Hurry up now, ‘cause your time is running out here.”

Louis pauses and fish-mouths, going back to his original grievance as a diversion tactic. “You don’t gotta be such a jerk, James. I was only saying that I would’ve liked to’ve been invited to go shopping.”

“Too bad, so sad. Look,” James says, pointing a finger at Louis, “if you’re smart enough to figure out how to actually throw a party here, and if anyone drinks and leaves this house at said party, you yourself won't leave it until you're twenty-five, I guarantee you. Hopefully there won't be any drinking at all, but I’m not dumb. So don't you be dumb, either. And no smoking indoors--at all--or your mom will have a conniption.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t smoke.”

James stares at Louis, nonplussed. “It would be awfully bad for your lungs if you did.”

Louis walks upstairs and showers, thankful he’s off from his real job today because that means he can just spend more time with Harry.

When he's finished showering, Louis’s upset to find Harry doing homework on his bed. Like he always is. He’s also upset that apparently he scares Harry enough that a book flies out his hand.

“Sorry.” Louis clears his throat and sits on the bed that’s he’s happy Harry has finally put his own sheets on. Everything smells so much better.  “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“English essay. Haven’t started. Due Monday morning.”

The answer for Louis is easy. “Plagiarize it.”

Harry doesn’t look amused, so Louis whistles and raises his eyebrows. “Just a joke, just a joke.” He looks around. “So. Heard you got some nice stuff today?”

“Yeah, tons.” Harry looks to the pile of bags by his closet. “He spent so much money I feel guilty, though. I hadn’t even heard of some of those stores we went to.”

“Oh, don’t feel guilty,” Louis says automatically. “But if you need anything else sometime, just ask. I'll take you next time. If you need some new stuff for your room or whatever. Or anything.”

“Oh, well. Thanks.” Harry smiles and pushes some hair out of his face. “But I didn't think you would...like shopping...and stuff.”

Louis scoffs. “Of course I like shopping.”

It's sort of quiet then, both of them just sort of glancing at one another, so Louis bounces on the bed a bit. “You doin’ anything today?”

Harry makes a face and looks down at his notebook. “Writing this paper. You?”

“Probably need to be doin’ some work, I guess, but I don't feel like it. It’s nice out. I think I'm gonna go hang out by the pool. You should come.”

“But I gotta do this rough draft and then edit it and type it up and print it.”

“Write out there. You can work on your tan.”

“Oh. Like in my bathing suit?”

“I mean, it's gonna be up to seventy-something by two o’clock if you'd rather wear a coat. Weirdo.”

“Shut up,” Harry chuckles, and Louis’s frozen just watching him play with his hair nervously. “Um. Okay. Let me change, and I'll be out in a minute.”

“See ya in a sec.”

Louis is in his own swimming trunks in no time at all, and the first thing he does is run outside, sprint to the diving board, and jump in the pool. When he surfaces, he looks up expecting to see Harry walk outside, but instead, he’s disappointed when he sees Lottie instead. Louis climbs out of the pool from the side and claims two of the long lawn chairs beside it before Lottie can.

“Don't you have friends or something?” Louis calls out.

“Don't you?” Lottie quips. “Or are they all still asleep?”

Louis squints his eyes. “If you think that's an insult to me or something, try again. I got up at sunrise today.”

Lottie claps her hands sarcastically and sprays oil on her legs. Louis rolls his eyes, and it's just then that he hears the basement sliding door slam shut. Looking up excitedly, instead of seeing Harry, he sees three  tiny bodies run outside and get closer and closer. The rest of his sisters--every single one--are wearing bikinis, giggling and holding hands.

“No, no, no,” Louis grumbles.

Harry eventually comes outside, too, and Louis eats up every inch of Harry’s skin that’s showing because it’s been so long since he’s seen more than just Harry’s arms and calves, but unfortunately, within just a few minutes, all of the commotion from Louis’ sisters makes Harry apologetically leave. Even though Louis enjoys watching him walk back to the house, he's not happy about it at all.

Louis sits at the edge of the pool and puts his feet in, half-grumpily kicking water at his sisters. They splash him back.

“Why aren’t you at work today, anyway?” Lottie asks him from behind.

“I’m skipping,” Louis loudly answers.

“Awwww,” all his younger sisters chorus.

Louis jumps in the pool, still splashing his sisters. “I’m not really skipping. I just don't feel like leavin’ the house today.”

“Cause you don't wanna leave Harry?” Fizzy asks. She’s sitting on a giant floating crocodile and using her feet to frantically maneuver herself around the twins.

“It's my day off,” Louis answers easily. He finds a pool toy and throws it at Fizzy’s head. “I just don't wanna do anything.”

“But play with us, right?” Phoebe asks. “Right, Louis?”

“But play with you,” Louis agrees.

Louis does have something in the back of his head he’d prefer doing, though. He knows how serious Harry is about his schoolwork, so he daydreams all afternoon about barely appropriate images while he waits for him to finish. And waits and waits and waits. Back inside, after he’s snuck away from the house only for a few cigarettes, he brushes his teeth and sits impatiently in the kitchen, waiting for Austin to finish cooking so everyone’ll come to the table to eat. He can sense that Harry is still in his own room, and it makes him agitated. He’d wanted to spend the entire day with him.

Irritated at nothing, Louis paces around the kitchen. “When’s it gonna be ready?”

“Probably over half-an-hour,” Austin says. “Just got started.”

Louis groans and decides to just interrupt Harry already. He’s been working all freaking day. Knocking on the door before barging in, he catches Harry writing in his notebook with adorably scrunched-up-together eyes before he looks up and gasps.

Louis gives him an apologetic look. He always seems to scare Harry or something when he walks in his room. “Still goin’ strong, huh?”

Harry nods and then yawns, stretching. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

“Oh, my gosh. I'm literally the most boring person alive.”

“You're _studious_ ” Louis corrects.

“No,” Harry laughs softly. “Just afraid of being less than perfect, I guess.”

“Oh, I wouldn't be afraid of that if I were you.” Louis smirks like he always does when Harry blushes at things he says. Then he grabs Harry’s hand and tugs. “C’monnn. Take a break.”

“But I need to type this up and print it.”

“Do it tomorrow,” Louis groans. “You’ve been working on it all day. Or, you know, you could’ve typed it in the first place and then edited it like that like a _normal_ person.”

“It hurts my eyes,” Harry complains. “And I’m slow at typing.”

“So that’s why you should wait until tomorrow to do it. Come upstairs with me.”

And luckily for Louis, Harry does. Even knowing it'll draw attention if someone sees, Louis still closes his door once Harry’s inside, and together, they fall back onto the bed, sighing loudly and spreading out their arms. When Louis looks over at Harry, his mouth is wide open in a yawn.

“You’re tired.”

“Shouldn't be. Didn't do anything all day.”

“You just wrote a ten-page paper,” Louis throws out, touching Harry with his foot.

“Mmm.” Harry turns over onto his side and looks at Louis softly. “Let's just go to sleep.”

Louis smiles like it's the cutest thing he's ever heard. But, well. Harry's looking extra cute right now. He reaches out and touches his arm. “You act older than I do.”

Harry nods and stretches. “I’ve got the body of a grandpa.”

“Yeah, right,” Louis mutters.

“Creaky knees. My leg’s bad.”

“‘Cause you broke it in your fierce youth.”

Harry’s smile is wide. “Guess I’m a wild man after all.”

Louis may be imagining it, but he thinks Harry’s giving him an inviting look. Instead of looking sleepy, Harry looks alert. Kinda shy for some reason, but he smells happy. Louis turns on his side like Harry is. They stare wordlessly for a few moments, then Louis’ eyes get soft. “Feel like I haven’t seen you at all this week.”

Harry smiles again, and Louis almost doesn’t listen to what he says next because his eyes are really bright, and they’re all Louis can focus on. “You drove me to school every day this week.”

Louis just shrugs. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Harry strings along. “What do’ya mean?”

“You live here, but I just…” Louis licks his lips. “I don’t feel like it sometimes. Don't see you as much as I want.”

“Because I’m down in Siberia with the ghosts.”

Louis chuckles. “Yeah. You should just sleep up here with me. I’ll keep the ghosts away.”

Harry breaks eye contact with Louis and says, “Yeah,” very quietly, and then it’s nothing but silence.

It’s not an awful sort of silence, though. Louis takes it as a good sign.

“You sure you haven’t just been ignoring me?” Louis asks, casually putting a hand on Harry’s hip. He forces himself to do only that. He’s not expecting to see a blush from Harry at that question, and he doesn’t know how to read it.

Harry shakes his head. “No.”

Louis squirms even closer and presses, “You sure?”

Harry brings his eyes back to meet Louis’. “I’m not ignoring you.”

And the look that Harry gives him...Louis still doesn’t know how to read it. He just knows that he wants to take all of this slow this time, not all fierce like he did down in Harry’s room, and he’s not sure how to tell if kissing Harry right at this moment would be too quick or not. Considering they’re in his bed, side-by-side.

But that’s where they’ve been literally every single other time they’ve kissed--this exact same bed.

And it’s just been too long since it’s happened.

Louis inhales his breath maybe a little too loudly and then leans in. He closes his eyes when his mouth meets Harry's, and their lips touch for long seconds unmoved. When Louis backs away a bit to look at Harry with a question in his eyes, it’s just a moment before he relaxes and kisses him once more.

It's nice to savor Harry like this, just enjoying the way he feels and smells, but soon Louis starts exploring, widening his jaw. He's aware that after every move from his own lips, Harry’s lips do the same thing. Soon, the feel of Harry responding is too much, and even though Louis’s trying desperately to maintain his wits, he can feel himself begin to fall into the sensation. He’s been waiting all day--all week-- _two_ weeks?--and Harry’s good. He’s really, really good.

Before Louis even realizes it, his pace becomes faster, almost hurried, and the kiss turns rougher. Harry just smells so good and tastes so sweet that Louis can’t help but squeeze his waist harder, and he can’t quite bring himself to care anymore. It’s amazing how easily Harry’s lips open up for him and move, like he wants this and has missed this just as much as Louis has, and Louis feels so happy and aroused he could die. He’s right where he belongs. _Fucking finally._

Suddenly Louis’s kissing Harry so hard, he’s afraid for a minute that it might be hurting him, his mouth sucking and devouring as though Harry’s the only food he’s had in months. He knows there’s no real finesse to his lips anymore and he should be ashamed to be treating Harry so gracelessly, but he can’t pull back. His mind’s numb with sensation, his body on fire. Already. Just from this.

Slow. He forces his mouth to go slow again. Forces himself to keep control of his teeth. Of what’s in his pants.

Any will Louis has left, he uses to keep his hips completely still, maintaining the current proximity, keeping the distance of his body from becoming disrespectful. He wants this to be good. Harry can’t look back on any of this and feel cheap. Truly, Harry probably deserves more than this, more than this sloppy and crazed mass of hormones Louis’s turned into, but Louis literally can’t help it. Harry’s lips are moving against his with just as much fervor as Louis’s using, and when Louis slides a careful leg in between both of Harry’s, Harry makes a noise right into Louis’ mouth.

Louis swallows the sound and slides his tongue into his mouth, and the newer taste of Harry immediately makes him dizzy on top of everything else he’s already feeling. Louis’s officially lost in this moment. It’s unlike anything ever. He’s tasted the inside of Harry’s mouth before, but this time it’s...different. He can’t explain it, but it’s different.

It’s different, and it’s instantly Louis’ favorite taste in the world. He wants more. More than anything, he wants to fully roll on top of Harry and snuggle in between his legs to rut there, wants to cover Harry with his scent so everyone will know he’s claimed him--at least partially--but he doesn’t. The hand clutching onto Harry’s hip continuously flexes with the effort to stay where it is. Still, he can’t help but snake his other one to Harry’s hair, holding the back of his neck.

Eventually having a really hard time breathing, Louis breaks away first even though he doesn’t want to. His face remains an inch from Harry’s, and they just stay like that. Everything in the room smells so fucking good it’s stifling. Louis almost can’t fucking take it.

“Louis,” Harry finally breathes, squeezing Louis’ shoulder. He’s been saying Louis’ name like that lately, in that breathy, almost suppressed way, so quiet it’s almost like he’s not speaking at all.

Harry’s words are the first thing either of them have said in a long time, and it’s not the sound that jerks Louis back to reality; it’s Harry’s fingers. They still clutch at the meat of Louis’ shoulder, clawing, and it’s then that Louis realizes that the full length of his body is pressed against Harry--more specifically, the part of him that most betrays his perverted mind. Hard and insistent, he can actually feel the softness of Harry’s belly with it, and he squeezes his eyes shut before forcing himself to scoot back.

“Shit,” Louis mutters. His leg is still in between both of Harry’s.

He looks at Harry’s face. Lips red and swollen, it almost appears like he’s wearing makeup, and Louis doesn’t know how to feel. Maybe he’d been too rough. Maybe he’d taken everything too fast.

...But he can’t help it. Immediately, he feels himself being drawn to Harry again. Like an invisible force is pulling him in, he lowers his head again as his eyes get droopy. He immediately lifts it again.

It takes more strength than it should to roll completely off Harry and break all skin-contact. Louis focuses on breathing quietly, trying to be mentally strong enough to get his boner to go down. At least until Harry leaves the room. Apparently he was wrong about himself. He _can’t_ control his body. And now he’s done literally the worst thing he could do and pushed his fucking dick into Harry’s stomach.

It’s probably a good five minutes of Louis thinking of outrageously unattractive things before Harry’s quiet voice finally shakes the loud thoughts out of Louis’ head.

“Should I--?” Harry looks down awkwardly. “Do I need to do anything different?”

Louis laughs a little maniacally. “What could you possibly--what do you mean?”

“Um,” Harry answers quietly. “You said--well, for practice...--um, should I do anything different? Do you think?”

“Oh," Louis mutters dumbly.

That’s right. This is just practice for Harry. Louis knows this. He does. That’s the whole...that’s the whole reason Harry’s even doing this. The reminder still deflates Louis inside. He’d actually made the whole idea up for this exact reason--to be able to kiss Harry without Harry feeling all...weird about it, he guesses. But he’s failed. He’s made it weird.

Louis could probably come up with a few answers that would sound sort of realistic. Like, techniques or whatever that someone would tell someone else about kissing and shit like that, but honestly, Harry doesn’t even fucking need practice. Everything’s as great as it can be. Well, until he ruined it. Louis presses the palms of his hands into his eye sockets severely.

“You--” Louis clears his throat. “I think you’re fine.”

Harry’s voice is small. “Are...are you okay?”

“Fine,” Louis answers. “I’m fine.”

Knowing he probably looks like a dick, Louis lowers his hands from his face, and though he’s trying not to show Harry his hurt pride and disappointment, he casually glances over at him. Immediately, he jolts upright.

“Harry--Jesus--are you alright? You’re sweating like--like you’re in a sauna or something.”

Harry wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “Just a..just a little bit. It’s just hot in your room.”

“No, it's not. You’re...sweating really bad,” Louis comments, eyes scrunched in worry. All other thoughts leave his mind.

Harry rubs the back of his neck like he’s pestered. “Yeah, it’s--I’m fine.” He sits up alongside Louis before sliding off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Harry’s already at the door. “I think maybe I heard something outside.”

When Harry opens it, there’s no one in the hallway, but he’s gone in a matter of seconds. He doesn’t even show up at the dinner table.

The next morning, Louis gets up early and waits outside Harry’s bedroom door for almost half-an-hour, and he barricades the hall when Harry finally emerges.

“Are you okay?”

Eyes wide and frightened yet still puffy with sleep, Harry throws his hand on his chest. “Fuck me!”

Louis gasps and then busts out laughing.

“You scared the shit out of me, Louis, for God’s sake,” Harry mumbles, looking at the floor.

“You’re leaving your bedroom?” Louis asks, keeping his body stout when Harry tries to walk around him.

“Uh, yeah…?”

Louis sniffs the air. With narrowed eyes, he allows Harry to pass him, and they go about the morning pretty normally. While Harry finishes his English paper, Louis reluctantly puts on his work uniform and leaves the house.

 

* * *

 

 

For days, Harry keeps trying to make the feelings inside him come out like Will says they’re supposed to, but there’s something officially wrong with him. He can’t get his fingers to work right at all. It’s a mechanical action that has no release, and humping his bed is now his only option. Still, that only gets him so far. He’s been on edge for too long.

He swears he’s felt like he’s about to go into heat every second now, but it still hasn’t happened. He _knows_ there’s something wrong with him, and not just internally. Why else would Louis have entirely backed away from him when they were literally in the middle of sharing their longest kiss yet? Yeah, Harry went and made it weird by getting too overwhelmed at the end, but it was perfectly fine to start with. He’d thought.

As Harry’s been doing his homework all alone in the kitchen, he’s really just been zoning out, wondering why it’s pitch-black outside on a school night and why Louis isn’t home from work yet. Wondering if Louis’s ignoring him now.

He’s so fucking confused. Nothing makes any sense. He just knows he doesn’t want any of the stuff with Louis to stop, and all the weird signals from him are just making his mind a big, muddled mess.

Suddenly, Harry hears the basement door shut, and soon Jacob is in the kitchen, standing before Harry and assessing him quietly. He waves a hand in front of Harry’s face. “You okay?”

Harry startles and then nods, thankful it’s relatively dark and the redness on his face can’t be seen. He comes to his senses and sits up. “Fine. Just studying.”

“In the kitchen in the dark?”

“Change of scenery.” Harry clears his throat. “It’s quiet in here.”

“Yeah, it is quiet now that all the kids are asleep,” Jacob agrees, walking to the microwave. “You’re right.”

“Where did everybody go, anyway?” Harry blinks a few times and is surprised that he can’t remember where everyone even went and how long he’s been sitting by himself.

“James and Jay left for the hospital a while ago, the girls are all in bed…”

Beeping from the microwave echoes through the room while Jacob presses buttons and continues thinking out loud.

“...Your mom’s asleep, I think, and Louis’s working. And then my little angel finally decided to go to sleep, too, so. That’s everybody.” Jacob sighs as he sits down next to Harry with his plate of food James apparently left out for him. He looks exhausted. “Ten o’clock at night, and Conor finally gives up getting out of bed every two minutes. It only took a billion times to drag him back in his bed for him to get the picture.”

Harry makes a sympathetic face. “They say the billionth-and-oneth time is a charm.”

Jacob explains as he starts wolfing down his food, “He’s been driving me _insane_ lately. Whatever stage this is he’s going through, it’s no fun.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, “I hear two is hard. Or is he three now?”

“Almost. I think three’s easier. I am hoping with everything I have that three is easier.” Jacob looks up and gives a wry smile. “But here I prayed and prayed for a child in the first place, so I shouldn’t be complaining, should I?”

“That’s okay,” Harry says nicely, putting down his pencil. “It’s a tough job. Raising a child.” He tilts his head to the side. “I mean, I imagine it would be.”

Jacob chuckles. “My sister’s crazy for having so many. Seriously don’t know how Austin does it. I’m worn out chasing just one kid around all day. And they’re even talking about having more, can you imagine?”

“Are they really?”

“Hey, it’s their life,” Jacob says, shrugging. “So what are you doin’ your homework in here for? Can’t be a very good place to concentrate. And it is dark,” he argues, reaching above his head and pulling the cord on the overhead light.

“Oh,” Harry dumbly says. “I mean, it’s quiet, like I said…”

“Waitin’ on a certain someone to get home?”

Harry shrugs but then nods. He figures another omega would understand. He’s actually been very, very happy to have another male omega around lately because he doesn’t have many in his family. Not that it’s a huge deal to be an omega and a man rather than a woman, but Harry feels like he can relate more to Jacob in some way than to, say, his own mom.

“He said he was supposed to get off at seven,” Harry worries aloud.

“Probably lost track of time,” Jacob suggests. He takes his last bite of food. “He’s a workaholic. Sometimes. When he wants to be.”

Harry chuckles quietly. “Yeah.”

“So, how ya likin’ it here? We driving you crazy yet?”

“Oh, no, it’s great,” Harry answers genuinely. “It’s so much room. And I never even knew about the rooms on the other side of the house before we moved in. Louis always talked like everything over there was off-limits.”

Jacob smiles. “I think he’s always assumed that side was haunted.”

Harry laughs quietly again, then jolts his head up. He always thought Louis had said that as a joke. “It’s not, is it?”

Jacob winks and stands up to take his plate to the sink. “Not to my knowledge.”

Harry follows his movements with his eyes and looks around, really taking everything in. After living in Louis’ house for awhile, the novelty of calling such a huge house home still hasn’t worn off. Everything’s just so nice, so _spacious_. He’s never stayed in such a luxurious place before for so long.

The kitchen itself is just about as big as the kitchen _and_ “dining room” _and_ living room put together in Harry’s old place. There’s tons of counter space, a center island, a huge fridge and stove, and Harry would love to cook in it. The room stretches out so everyone in the family can walk around and not feel claustrophobic, too. And everything’s made out of nice materials.

This is stuff that, having visited Louis’ house since he was a baby, Harry’s already known, but living in the house feels different somehow.

“This house used to be Louis’ great-grandma’s, didn’t it?”

Jacob nods while drying off his plate with a dish towel.

“So, just curious--how come she gave his mom the house and all her money but not your mate?”

Jacob walks back to the table and laughs. “Actually, James’ name is on the house, not Jay’s. And everybody received an equal amount of money from her. The woman married rich. About four times, actually. The husbands all mysteriously died, you see.” He pointedly looks at Harry before putting his hands around his own throat, sticking out his tongue, and crossing his eyes.

Harry’s mouth drops open. “No way.”

“Yeah, crazy stuff. Anyway, there was a small estate sale for the stuff inside that belonged to her husbands. Most of her furniture is still here.” He smirks. “On the off-limits side you now call home. Jay can’t let it go, so that’s where it’s stayed.”

“Yeah, the room I’m sleeping in is pretty old-fashioned,” Harry laughs. “Why did Jay end up living in the house, though, and not James? Is it ‘cause she’s the oldest Alpha?”

Jacob smiles. “I can really see how Louis finds you so charming, you know.” It’s quiet when he finally answers, “James didn’t stay here here much because of school and all. Seemed a waste. Jay ended up putting her faith in the wrong man back then and had an infant to look after, so of course he let her have it. It was a no-brainer. Besides, we still practically live here anyway.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “What happened to that man, anyway? Louis’ dad?”

“We don’t hear from him,” is all Jacob says.

Just then, Louis stumbles in the front door, hair a little messy and eyes a little bright, smiling to himself. Harry immediately looks at him and can tell that he must’ve smoked after his shift ended. That explains why he’s so late.

Which is fine. Harry actually wants to laugh at the way he looks, but Jacob’s still right there, so he keeps a straight face even though it’s hard. It’s amusing to Harry that Louis tries so hard to hide it from him. But then he immediately starts worrying again. What’s he trying to escape from?

Louis walks as far as the foot of the stairs and then speaks to Harry. “You comin’?”

“Comin’ where?”

Louis points upstairs, so Harry awkwardly waves at Jacob and then abandons his homework to slowly follow Louis. Louis normally is a bit more secretive about them being in his room alone.

“You been studyin’?” Louis asks for the sake of saying something while they ascend the stairs side-by-side.

“Yeah, but hard to do with missing notes,” Harry answers pointedly, gently pushing on Louis’ arm.

Louis frowns but doesn’t stop walking. “Huh?”

“My notes,” Harry repeats. “I gave them to you. About the commas.”

“The commas.”

“Yeah, about...where to put and not to put the commas because you always stick them where they don't go...”

“Oh. Punctuation.” Louis cracks his knuckles and steps into his room, not meeting Harry’s eyes. “Must’ve lost them.”

Harry looks around the room. “Wonder why that could be.”

Louis finally faces Harry again and smirks, the kind of smile that makes his eyes squinty. “Are you tryin’ to say somethin’?”

“I _am_ saying something.” Harry makes a face at the dirty clothes littering the floor. “No trying about it.”

“Jerk.” Louis keeps grinning, though, muttering, “Already nagging about my mess.”

Harry sticks out his tongue. “How was work?”

Stretching exaggeratedly, Louis stands on his tip-toes and yawns. “Shitty.”

“I...I thought your shift ended at seven.”

“Oh,” Louis mutters. He points vaguely to a rolled-up piece of paper in his back pocket. “Yeah. I met up with some people from theater to practice for the end-of-year play I got a small role in.”

“Oh, cool,” Harry says for lack of knowing how else to treat this situation. He sort of would like to smoke sometime with Louis to know what he’s feeling like right now. He shifts his weight from foot-to-foot.

Louis messes with some remotes on his bed and turns on his XBox. After a few minutes, Harry can see FIFA begin to load, and Louis adjusts some pillows on his bed and hops on. Holding out a controller to Harry, he asks, “Wanna play?”

Harry nods, so that’s what they do. Louis doesn’t even try to kiss Harry that night, and Harry tries not to be disappointed in that. The next day at school, though, Louis acts like nothing is wrong, and he sits so close to Harry at breakfast that he's almost in Harry's lap. Harry could preen. Actually, he probably does. Nothing makes sense, but it’s still so nice.

Niall sits with them that morning, making the entire table erupt into cheers of his name because he hasn’t hung out in forever, but Harry can’t seem to focus on anything but Louis. As they eat their breakfast, they don’t really talk, but they’re so in tune with one another’s movements that it’s comforting. It’s just like when Louis kissed him last time, how their mouths and hands and everything just seemed to move together so well and feel so _right._  How could there be any possible way that Louis could anything different? He had to have felt the same thing. And he didn’t say that Harry needed to change anything he was doing--Harry made sure to ask--so why did he stop?

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks quietly.

Harry immediately feels his face betray him and turn red. He shakes his head quickly, strangely. “Nothing.” He clears his throat and changes the topic. “Did you figure out the party yet?”

“Oh, yeah,” Louis answers louder. “So Cal’s gonna have the party at his house Saturday.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I got a feeling James is gonna be watching the house somehow,” Louis replies with his mouth full. “Or have someone check on it or something. Not worth the bullshit, plus all my sisters are gonna be there.”

“Oh.” Harry continues eating his food. “They’ll be out of town though?”

“I don’t even think they’re leaving, actually. But whatever. Doesn’t matter now.”

“So it’s all good to go with Calvin?”

“Yeah. Tell your friends.” Louis takes a long drink of milk. “He lives so close to me I don’t think it’s a huge deal that we’ve switched the house or anything.”

“Well, this’ll be just lovely,” Will mutters.

Harry looks up and his confused face turns sympathetic. “Oh, no. Will you still go since it’s at Calvin’s?”

Will sulks. “I guess I have no choice.”

“What would Amanda say about that, though?” Louis asks.

“I don’t really care what Amanda would say about that. I’m not letting an Alpha tell me I can’t go to a party I was invited to,” Will answers.

“I’m just saying,” Louis says. “Cal doesn’t have scent-neutralizers at his house like I do. It’s gonna be super shitty if those two Alphas get together and there’s a fight.”

“Not my fault if they do.”

“You’re quite the feisty one,” Louis mumbles. “Anyway, I’m just saying. It’s Calvin’s house. He’s gonna feel a certain type of way if she’s there and smells all territorial.”

“Again, that wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Why don’t you just take out some of the neutralizers from your house?” Zayn asks Louis lazily, looking up from his book. Harry notices that he’s finally towards the end of it, whatever it is. “They’re only plug-ins, aren't they?”

Niall’s eyes get huge, and he laughs. “Look who’s got smarts!” He over-exaggeratedly grabs Zayn’s shoulders and shakes them funnily while everyone else looks on in blank confusion.

Niall drops his hands slowly, looking around at the table. “...What’d I do?”

Everyone shakes their heads in avoidance.

“...Nothing,” Will finally answers for the group, even though it’s obvious he’s just casually scented an omega. Harry’s never seen Niall do that before.

Louis clears his throat. “So anyway--nice idea, Zayn.”  


* * *

 

That Thursday, Louis’ stuck picking up Lottie from her school because of some after-school standardized testing prep-group she’s joined, and from the way his fingers grip the steering wheel, he can already feel it. He can feel it under his skin, boiling in his very blood. Lottie doesn’t make it any better, bitching at him from the passenger seat of his car about how he’s a bad driver and how he needs to use his turn signals more. So he just bitches right back.

“Lottie, shut up!” he screams. “Just shut up for once, would you? You’re not perfect, so just keep your damn mouth shut. You don’t even _know_ how to drive.”

Lottie withers in her seat but doesn’t stop talking until they’re home and she’s in her room. The entire way up the stairs and even down the hallway she keeps mouthing at Louis, though, complaining that his room stinks and the smell is travelling into her own and making it hard to think, and Louis so badly wants to push her that he lets out his anger on slamming his door in her face instead.

Not even five minutes later, she’s back at it, knocking on his door.

“What?! What is it? What the hell do you want now?”

Disheveled and angry, Louis roughly opens his door, and he’s shocked to see Harry there instead of his sister, and he immediately looks to the carpet. “I--I just was gonna say hi,” he answers quietly.

“Is it a bad time?”

“No, no, no,” Louis says too quickly, stepping to the side to invite Harry in. “I just thought you were Lottie.”

“Oh.” Harry tentatively walks inside. “What’s the matter?”

“Just bullshit.” Louis just shakes his head. He’s just standing there, the same size as Harry but sort of towering over him, and he can’t believe this is happening right now. Not now. Out of all times.

“You’re mad?”

“Yeah.”

Harry looks to the floor. “I...It’s not something I did, is it?”

“No.”

“But...are you sure?”

“God, I’m not mad at you, Harry, alright? Just believe me the first time.”

Harry’s face falls.

Louis growls. He doesn’t mean to growl, but he does. He doesn’t like how he’s acting. “Harry...Look, I-I didn’t mean it like that, okay?”

“I was just making sure. You didn’t wait for me after school.”

“Fuck.” Louis runs his hands through his hair. “You took the bus?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. I had to pick up my sister from school, and she kept calling me, and I just. She was bitching so much I forgot.”

“Oh. It’s okay. Um.” Harry looks at Louis’ face, and Louis hates that he looks...scared or something.

He steps close to Harry and pulls him close. “Come here. I’m pissed off ‘cause I can’t go to the party. I’m not mad at you. Don’t listen to anything I’m saying, okay?”

“W-Well, why can’t you go?”

Louis grumbles. “I’ll be in rut.” He lets Harry go to rub his face with both hands. They never used to talk about this kind of stuff so openly. “Gonna start tonight. You actually shouldn’t be in here right now.”

“Oh,” Harry utters, looking down again. “So you can’t be around anybody for a while.”

Louis shakes his head. “I get--well. I get really mean, so I have to stay locked up in my room. Even with the neutralizers I can’t be at Cal’s. So. Have fun without me.”

“How long will you be--like, how long does it last?”

“Days,” Louis sighs. “I’ll probably be fine on Sunday but not on Saturday.”

Harry makes a sad noise. “That sucks.”

“Have fun without me, though, okay?”

“But I don’t want to go without you…”

“All of your friends’ll be there. And your sister’s going. Just. Seriously. Have fun, alright?”

And he’s forced to dismiss Harry from his room before he gets too in his head and starts tearing his clothes off or something. But right as he’s walking out his room, Louis pulls him back and gives him a hug. He doesn’t want to fucking let go.

Louis sighs and steps back. “Lock the deadbolts on the outside of the door when you shut it.”

 

* * *

 

Maybe it’s because he’s so mad at having to miss the party, maybe it’s because he’s perpetually horny these days, or maybe it’s because he’s already been knotting every single day as it is, but Louis’ rut lasts no time at all. By Friday night he thinks it’s already over, actually, making it a record twenty-four hour occurrence, but he stays in his room all day Saturday, too, just to be sure. That evening, Lottie unlocks his door for him when he texts her, and after a long shower, he goes downstairs dressed in an outfit he thinks makes him look nice.

“Where’re you going?” Lottie asks in the kitchen, side-eyeing him.

“None of your business,” Louis lazily answers. When he’s done scarfing down all the food in the fridge he can find, he grabs his keys and begins heading to the front door.

Right at that very moment, he’s not expecting to see Harry emerge from his bedroom looking literally the hottest Louis’ ever seen him look before. He’s wearing an outfit that Louis’ never seen--probably something that James bought him recently--and Louis can only gape and blink. He’s even styled his hair. As Harry continues walking down the little hall in front of his bedroom door, it takes him some time to even recognize Louis’ presence in the foyer, and once he does, he gasps.

“I thought you said that you couldn’t go!” he rushes up to him and greets.

“Shh!” Gemma says harshly from behind Harry. She looks like she’s wearing new clothes, too, but Louis doesn’t pay attention to her.

“It was shorter than normal,” Louis responds quietly, staring at Harry’s jeans. They’re skin-tight and black, clinging to Harry like they’re his skin, and every little curve of his legs is visible from his tiny calves to his thicker thighs.

“Really?” Harry asks more hushed.

Louis just nods. As his eyes travel upwards, he takes in the rest of Harry’s outfit. His shirt is plain and white, but somehow it looks better than anything Louis’s ever seen on Harry before. If that’s something that’s even possible. Louis’ words just sort of spill out. “You look...really good.”

“D’you like it?” Harry does a sarcastic twirl but looks at Louis expectantly afterwards. When Louis doesn’t respond--can’t--Harry repeats himself.

Louis jerks his head up after a few moments. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you liked it,” Harry asks again.

“Yes,” Louis answers, his eyes big. “I do.”

They stare at each other in a weird way after that, and Gemma stands beside Harry looking amused. When Louis notices the look on her face, he clears his throat and holds out his hand to Harry. “You ready?”

“Well, don’t leave together, idiots,” Gemma whispers, smacking Louis’ hand away. Looking at Harry, she reminds, “You’re supposed to be staying the night at Zayn’s, remember? I’m driving you. Go find Mom and say goodbye so we can go.”

As Louis texts Calvin by the front door and waits for enough time to pass for him to leave in his own car, he sees James and Jacob enter the kitchen from the basement out of his peripheral vision. James luckily doesn’t approach him, and when Harry and Gemma glide to the front door together, he puts his phone in his pockets and winks at Harry. “See you later.”

Outside, Harry waves at Louis from the passenger seat of Gemma’s mom’s car, and still looking like an idiot, Louis just stares at him as the car reverses out of the drive-way.


	16. don't regret falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a little A/B/O thing typed up I'll share at the beginning of the next chapter to answer some questions I've been getting. Still feel free to ask in the comments of you want to though! Also, will fix weird spacing formatting asap, just wanted to get this up. :)

“You need to throw out all your old clothes and only wear those new ones you’ve got on,” Gemma tells Harry in the car. “Seriously. You look so much better than you usually do.”

“...Thanks.”

Truly, confidence radiates from Harry at hearing that--even though it was maybe sort of an insult, actually--and he subconsciously glows. Making Gemma turn up the radio so he can happily sing the entire time he’s in the backseat, he tries to let some of the balled-up energy inside him escape. Even though Gemma told him he doesn’t need to base his life choices off an Alpha, he had been so afraid to go to this party without Louis. The fact he’s going now, too, changes everything. Harry’s relieved.

He’s relieved, and he’s not afraid to admit he’s relieved. Parties are where everything good happens, and nothing good is actually good unless shared with Louis.

Parties are also where Alphas and omegas hook up. At least that’s what Ashton says. It’s not like Harry’s ever gone to any to know this information first-hand. But he can hope.

Even when Gemma picks up a “friend” she’s currently talking to, Harry doesn’t stop singing. Actually, he belts out lyrics from the backseat, which is something he normally wouldn’t do around people he doesn’t know well. But he's drinking an energy drink his sister bought for him, and Louis’s gonna be there Louis’s gonna be there Louis’s gonna be there. It’s not until Gemma arrives at Calvin’s house and Harry sees Louis’ car already in the driveway that he shuts up, now suddenly anxious.

He and Louis are magnetized to one another the second Harry walks in the door, and they stay that way through all the awkward moments the party’s beginning has. Knowing Louis’s just had a rut, Harry has the weirdest instinct to stick his nose in Louis’ neck and smell him, but he holds off because he knows that would be inappropriate. He’s left standing with one sweaty hand in his pocket and one sweaty hand to his mouth, wishing he could put Louis’ head on his lap and run them instead through Louis’s hair. He looks tired, almost like he’s sick. Harry wants to make him feel better.

Sneaking glances at Louis in between greeting the few people he recognizes and being introduced to people he doesn’t, Harry tries to not be weird. But it’s inevitable. Being at a party where almost everyone is an upperclassman is unavoidably weird.

When Harry’s counted about twenty or thirty people in the house, he watches as Calvin climbs on top of the marble island in the middle of his huge kitchen. Surrounding him are few of his dad’s liquor bottles, some large bags of chips, and dozens of plastic cups.

“Alright, everybody,” Calvin calls out while people congregate around him. “Here are the rules.”

As people start to boo him, Calvin holds out his hand and starts counting on his fingers. “Don’t trash the house, don’t go in my parents’ room, don’t fuck on my bed, and don’t leave ‘til the morning. If you gotta smoke, go outside. Don’t act like an asshole or I’ll kick you out.” When Stan starts pretending to hump a horrified omega next to him and everyone starts laughing, Calvin waves his hands at the debris flying at his face and shouts louder. “And, guys, listen! Listen! If the cops get called because any of you are acting stupid, I’ll personally shit on everything you own. Don’t be a dumbass!”

“Anything else?” Stan hollers.

“Oh, yeah,” Calvin says, hopping down on the floor in one go. “Don’t eat my food.”

Harry looks at the refrigerator and notices that the two long stainless-steel handles have been duct-taped together. Good effort, but he doesn’t think it’ll last. The night he had gotten really drunk with Niall and Zayn, Niall had cleared out half of Zayn’s entire fridge.

Louis begins lazily slow-clapping when Cal approaches him, earning him an attempted punch to the balls that he quickly deflects by contorting his body and lifting a leg. “Fuck you, man, they’re sore,” Louis laughs. “So hey, way to ruin the buzz of the party before it even starts. Bravo.”

“If it was at your house, you’d do the same shit, bro,” Calvin complains. “I’m not tryin’ to get arrested. This is more people than we normally get to come over. And I’ve got, like, five Hungry Man dinners in the freezer. Y’all ain’t touchin’ shit.”

Harry starts cracking up at the way Calvin sounds but tries to hide it with his hand. Calvin turns to him. “Oh, hey, Harry.”

“Hi.” Harry awkwardly waves.

“Is Will here?”

“Oh--Um, not yet, I don't think. I... Should I call him?”

“Nah, it’s good. He'll come.” Calvin takes a step back and gestures to the liquor and various mixers on the counter he just jumped off of. “Drink something. We’re gonna start up beer pong in the garage here soon, too.”

Louis looks around. “...Where’s the beer?”

“Coming in a minute.”

“You should just stick to that,” Louis leans over and tells Harry. “Safer.”

Harry thinks back to the last time he had liquor. “Yeah. I will.” He peers over to look at what’s already in the plastic cup Louis’s holding. It looks like water with ice in it. “What’s in yours?”

“Just soda and vodka.”

“What’s it taste like?” Harry asks, already taking it out of Louis’ hands. “Let me try.”

Louis smirks.

It’s like carbonated rubbing alcohol. “This tastes god-awful,” Harry makes a face and says after he’s swallowed it.

“I’m offended,” Louis says, smiling. He throws a casual arm around Harry.

Harry’s left speechless at the contact. It’s felt like so long. Plus, Louis’s doing this in public. In front of everybody. Like they’re a couple. It’s enough to make him hot all over.

Desperately wanting something to occupy his nervous hands, Harry fidgets with the loops of his jeans. Then, right on cue, Niall walks into the kitchen holding up two six-packs of cheap beer, and Harry’s eyes light up.

“Alright, I’m here with the booze,” Niall enthusiastically shares to the people still in the room. People look at him in appreciation as he starts pulling cans out of the plastic thingy they’re all attached to and handing them out to whoever’s standing around, and even though Louis’s already drinking from a cup, he takes one for Harry and one for himself, too.

Harry immediately opens the blue and silver can and brings it to his lips, and Louis stares until eventually reaching out to pull it away. “Have you ever drank before?”

Harry diverts his eyes. “Yeah," he says with a shrug, and he’s glad that Niall interrupts them before he has to explain that particular night.

“More in the garage for the games,” Niall informs. “My brother hooked me up.” He opens his can and holds it out until everyone else in the circle follows suit. When all of their beer cans touch each other’s, they cheer, and Harry smiles at the positive energy. He’s not been made fun of once so far. And Louis’s still so close Harry can feel him every time he moves. It’s gonna be a fun night.

Surrounded by a bunch of Alphas, Harry drinks quickly to try to fit in. Half the beer is gone by the time he lowers the can from his mouth.

“You don’t gotta drink so fast,” Louis advises close to his ear. “Pace yourself. Then you won’t get sick, okay?”

Harry smacks his lips. The bitter-tasting beer has made them sort of numb. “‘Kay.”

This night already feels much different than the night at Zayn’s house. That night, Harry had no clue what he was doing, and he was drinking really strong liquor. Tonight, it’s just beer, and it’s fucking nasty, but he gets used to it after a while. Louis’s right. Sticking to beer is the way to go.

Having Louis stand next to him makes Harry feel comfortable and relaxed, and soon, instead of feeling dizzy and sick, he feels warm and happy and even popular to an extent. Some of Louis’ and Gemma’s friends recognize him, and since they’re either juniors or seniors, he thinks everyone starts forgetting he’s just a freshman within the first hour.

Isn’t he just the socialite of the party. On to talk to more people. And do something called a beer-bong that Niall pulls him away from Louis to do. With the music and the energy and all the loud talking, Harry gets lost and just lets himself be dragged away until he’s in a room with a couple of Niall’s friends he recognizes from school. Louis doesn’t follow for some reason, but that’s okay. Niall’s beside him, and no one’s really doing much, just standing around and playing hacky-sack with red cups in their hands.

Man. Harry’s never really been to an actual _party_ party before. He grins when he eventually lines up with Niall and two other people who have plastic tubes to their lips, one of them being Oli. Harry grins. Being around people outside of school and acting like this is...liberating.

After most of his beer ends up on the floor, Harry wipes his mouth, grabs another beer from somewhere, and stands around making conversation.

“Louis bring you here?” Oli comes over to him and asks.

Harry shakes his head. “My sister.”

“Did he end up coming?”

“Yeah, he’s--Well, I don’t know where he is,” Harry answers. It’s strange talking to Louis’ friends like they’re his own. He’s talked to Oli only a handful of times in his life, but Oli’s looking at him like they’ve been great friends forever or something. Harry finds it easy to talk to him, though. “But he’s here somewhere. I can go--”

“He’s probably out smoking,” Oli shrugs and says. “He’ll sniff you out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“What’s that mean?” Harry asks. He’s annoyed when he starts hiccuping. “I thought there were--I thought there were neutralizers here.”

Oli laughs. “Oh, I didn’t mean literally. Or maybe so, I dunno. Maybe they won’t work for him.”

“Oh.”

Harry just sips his beer and stands awkwardly. The hacky-sack game is still in full-motion, even with Niall complaining about his knee hurting. Oli starts looking at him strangely. Eventually, Oli raises an eyebrow and grins. “You okay?”

Harry hiccups. He smiles and nods before waving to the room and just walking out like the weirdo he is. He should find some of his own actual friends. And Louis. Because he’s lost Louis. Niall’s his friend, too, of course, but Niall’s busy. And Oli is...nice, he guesses. But where’s Will? Where are any of the people from his own grade?

Harry eventually finds Zayn. It doesn’t take long. He just looks around the perimeter of the living room where he knows he’d probably be if he came at all, avoiding people. And there he is, on the couch with his older sister, looking grumpy. At a party. Harry walks up to them and sits down next to Zayn, immediately and plainly eavesdropping.

“I don’t owe him anything,” Zayn’s in the middle of saying. “I don’t even have to be with him. There are other Alphas who I’m talking to. Better ones.”

“Yeah?” Doniya asks. “Like who?”

“Ben. Josh.”

“You like _Ben_?” Harry interrupts, beer up to his mouth.

Zayn shrugs. “Wouldn’t things with Ben be easier?” he asks, looking at Harry with a bored look on his face though Harry can tell he’s all stressed because his lips and his eyes are strange. “Wouldn’t they?”

Harry crosses his legs. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what they’re like with _Liam_. You never share.”

“Fine until he went and messed with another omega in heat.”

“No, he did _not_ ,” Doniya rolls her eyes and says in annoyance. “I told you, Zayn, he was trying to get her out of the bathroom because all the other Alphas kept trying to break in. He didn’t mate her like you keep going on about.”

Zayn’s being stubborn. “Well, he’s an Alpha, too. He shouldn’t’ve gone in the room with her at all.”

“No one else was strong enough to get her out. Not even me. Liam plugged his nose and carried her out to Natalie’s car using just one arm.”

“So you’re sticking to the story that he was the only Alpha at the entire party who could help. Out of all the people there.”

“It’s not a story, dumbass. It actually happened. He’s a decent Alpha. Hard to find.”

“Harry dragged me away from an Alpha before when I was in heat. All on his own, and he’s an omega.”

“Well, that was sorta really, very hard to do, Zayn,” Harry breaks in and says. He holds out his hands. “I had my claws--”

“But both of you were completely sober when this happened, I’m assuming, weren’t you?” Doniya presses. “This happened at a party, Zayn. No one else could do it.”

Zayn crosses his arms. “Then why was he in there with the door closed if he just went in and then carried her out?”

“The door wasn’t closed.”

“Yes, it was,” Zayn argues.

She stares at him. “Were you there?”

“Fine,” Zayn relents. “He still danced with someone else that night. And the night before, he and I had _just_ \--”

“We were all dancing together!” Doniya argues louder. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, Zayn, but sounds like someone’s trying to stir up some shit. Trust me.”

“Literally look at him,” Harry whispers to Zayn, giggling. As if Zayn doesn’t already know exactly where Liam is and what he’s doing, Harry points him out anyway, and he and Zayn turn their focus on him.

Looking like a puppy-dog, Liam’s got a stupid look on his face as he apparently is in the middle of telling a story to Ashton and another guy on the football team. He’s wearing a plaid shirt and baggy jeans, leaning against a far wall across the room, and there’s a red plastic cup in his hand. Harry knows for a fact there’s no beer in it because he saw Liam pour it out in the sink earlier when he thought no one was looking. He either refilled it with liquor or he refilled it with something non-alcoholic, but Liam doesn’t seem to be getting louder and crazier as time goes on like everyone else has, so Harry thinks he knows the answer. He won’t say anything. Lips sealed.

“That omega beside him has been trying to talk to the entire football team all night--I’ve been watching,” Harry informs Zayn, “--and Liam’s not even looking at her.”

“Well, maybe he likes Ashton now.”

“Zayn, _shut up_ ” Doniya grumbles. “I bet if you went over there and strutted in front of him like that girl is, he’d pay attention to you.”

“If he wants to talk to me, he can.” Zayn shrugs.

“You told him you don’t want him to unless he apologizes,” Harry reminds. “But he doesn’t need to apologize if he didn’t do anything, does he?”

“Whose side are you on?” Zayn turns to Harry and asks. “Just a reminder: I stick up for you all the time.”

Harry leans to the side and wraps his arms around Zayn. “ _Zayyyyyn._ Cheer up. I want you to be happy. Liam makes you happy. You’ve been a big fat grouch since you two broke up. We’re at a party.”

Harry immediately feels like Louis is somewhere nearby, so he sits upright, and he smiles when he turns to the right and sees Louis already sitting on the arm of the couch. He leans his entire body into Louis. “ _Where have you been_?” he sings, and Louis ruffles his hair.

“Right outside.”

“I lost you,” Harry looks up at him and says.

“Thought Niall was tryin’ to get you to check out that band he’s followin’ on tour this summer.”

“Oh, my god,” Harry says quickly, laughing. “The songs they’re listening to in there are, like, twenty minutes long. It’s ridiculous. You need to go in and see for yourself. I can’t do it again.”

Louis throws a piece of gum in his mouth and chews through a smirk, and just the way his jaw moves is the hottest thing in the world. Leaning more into Louis, suddenly the only thought in Harry’s head is kissing him. Maybe he should. Maybe he will. Right here in front of everyone. That’s the night’s goal, anyway. Well, that’s his life’s goal, really. Kissing. Good kissing. The kind of kissing that’ll make Louis’ teeth drop, that’ll make him want to stay with Harry forever. Harry puts the beer can back to his lips and gulps.

“Apparently corny white boys are my type,” Zayn mumbles, lost in his own head just like Harry is. His voice is moody enough to make Harry look at him again, and he then realizes that Liam’s watching Zayn, too. The unspoken conversation between them is loud and overbearing.

When Liam leaves Ashton’s side and starts strutting to the couch, the puppy-dog image has left. He adjusts the hat on his head and purposefully begins walking through random little crowds of people who have congregated in the middle of the room, and suddenly Liam looks so intense Harry can feel Zayn tremble.

“Deep breaths,” Harry advises, smirking. “In and out.”

Zayn’s clutching his hands together to keep them from visibly shaking. “Yeah, you know all about that, don’t you?”

Harry is confused for a second before he sticks out his tongue. “Jerk.”

“You deserve this,” Doniya says out of the corner of her mouth while she stands up and walks away. “You deserve something nice.”

“Yeah,” Zayn answers somewhat moodily. “Bye.”

Harry looks at Louis, grabs his hand, and mouths, “Let’s go.”

Walking into the kitchen together, Louis heads straight to the half-empty bottle of vodka and opens it. “Love is in the air, huh?” he asks, looking up at Harry and winking.

Harry’s tongue is loose. “Good thing you brought your plug-ins or everyone would be mating in all the corners, wouldn’t they? I bet it’d be all stinky.”

Louis makes a noise, and before he can respond, Harry starts singing as he watches Louis’ actions. “He makes a whisky drink, he makes a vodka drink!”

“He drinks his vodka drink,” Louis sings back, bringing his cup to his mouth. After smacking his lips, he takes the beer from Harry’s hand and shakes it for weight. It’s empty already. It’s been empty. “You need another one?”

Harry’s still singing Tubthumping, but he stops and laughs when Louis puts his hand over his mouth and physically makes him be quiet. His shoulders shake while he fights Louis’ arm off. “Yes.”

“Number two, right?”

Harry nods. But he doesn’t really know. He doesn’t care. He just wants to wrap his arms around Louis and stick his face in his shirt, so he does. “Mmmmmm.”

“You sure you need another beer?”

“Yes,” Harry says definitively. “And so do you.”

Louis backs up to lean against the counter, taking Harry with him. “I’ve got my vodka drink.”

“Pissin’ the niiiight away,” Harry sings.

And then there’s Stan’s voice from too close nearby. Harry squeezes Louis tighter. “Yo, Tommo, c’mon, we’re smoking a bowl outside.”

Quickly shaking his head, Louis shoos Stan away, so Harry grins and lifts his head.

“You can if you want to. I’ll wait for you. Or I’ll go with you! Everyone else I know smokes w--”

“No,” Louis simply says, pouring more Sprite into his cup. His eyes are nice, but his voice his final, so Harry just rests his head on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to hide it,” Harry tells Louis, smirking.

“I’m not.” He playfully nudges Harry with his hip. “I just wanna chill with you tonight.”

“Well, they're--what about beer pong?” Harry suggests. He feels so happy right now. Louis’s cute. He likes Louis. If Louis gets drunk tonight, maybe he’ll kiss Harry and never stop. Maybe they’ll bond. Harry laughs. That won’t happen. But maybe they’ll kiss. Harry just has to ask for practice. “If you wanna play.”

Louis grins. “You gonna be my partner?”

Harry nods in excitement. “Your mate.”

“Then yes,” Louis answers straightaway, and Harry can’t stop the beam that covers his face after Louis leans in slowly and kisses him on the cheek.

Maybe the bonding stuff can happen sooner than Harry thought. This outfit was definitely a good choice. Thanks, Uncle James. Thanks a bunch. Maybe Louis will even get to see the new underwear Harry bought, too. Wait. What kind of a thought is that? That’s jumping the gun, Harry. First comes kissing, then comes that stuff. His heat is way past due, anyway. He can’t risk all of that happening. Whoa, whoa, now. Let’s just. Do this first.

The beer in Harry’s hand sweats all over his palm, or maybe it’s still from nerves and excitement. He takes a step closer to Louis and places his drink on the countertop, and his blood feels warm. Louis’s so hot. He’s just so freaking hot. Before batting his eyes in what he hopes isn’t a horrible attempt at flirtation, Harry reaches out to touch the hem of Louis’ shirt before stepping closer.

“Harry!” an out-of-breath voice yells. And then it gets nearer. “Thank God, I didn’t know where anyone was.”

Not able to make sense of this moment, Harry blinks. He shakes his head, and the spell with Louis is gone. Will is beside him. He and Louis turn their bodies to face Will, and Louis casually brings his cup to his mouth as Harry exclaims in extreme delay, “Will! Where have you been?”

“I got lost,” he says. He’s more fretful than Harry’s ever seen him. Which isn’t much, but for Will, any outward appearance of worry is sort of out-of-character from his normal, cynical personality.

“How?” Louis asks. “You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, but...It’s dark, and I had to walk here from outside the neighborhood.”

“What a gem, our Calvin,” Louis says loudly, still sipping on his drink. “Making his omega walk.”

“I’m not--Actually, he...he doesn’t know I’m here yet,” Will admits, shrugging. “I asked around... People said not to drive inside the gates ‘cause it’d be suspicious with too many cars... So I got dropped off at the gas station down the street.”

“That’s like a twenty minute walk,” Louis remarks, eyebrows high.

“I think he’s outside smoking weed,” Harry offers.

Louis goes on, “I’d be so pissed off if I was you. He could’ve at least gone outside to meet you somewhere. He’s got a phone.”

“It’s fine,” Will brushes off. “So...where is he? On the deck or downstairs on the patio?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry replies.

“Oh.” Will frowns. “Well, I guess I’ll go find him.”

“Want me to go with you?” Harry’s already following him.

Louis grabs the collar of Harry’s t-shirt. “Thought you wanted to play beer pong?”

“Oh, right. Beer pong!” Harry is enthusiastic until he remembers Will. “But you’re okay going alone?”

“I’m just going outside.” Will rolls his eyes. “I’m _fine."_

“Did you wanna play beer pong with us later?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe.”

When Will’s gone, Louis narrows his eyes. “I don’t get Calvin sometimes.”

“Will’ll be fine. He doesn’t like to be babied. I’m sure Calvin’s gonna cheer him up.”

“We’ll see. He’s been tryin’ long enough.” Louis seems to be deep in thought for a second then appears to forget about whatever is in his head as he holds up his cup and taps it to Harry’s beer can. “So. You ready for this?”

Harry does a little dance. “Yeah! What should our team name be?”

“Oh, shit, our team name,” Louis repeats. He thinks for an entire minute before shaking his head. “You decide.”

Harry grins. “Are you drunk?”

“Gettin’ there. My mind’s just all shitty from my rut. I can’t think. So fuckin’ tired.”

Harry feels bad. Again, he just wants to lay Louis down and wipe his face with a wet towel or something. He doesn’t know what it’s like after a rut, but hopefully it’s not as bad as after a heat.

“I mean, I’m fine,” Louis corrects, “but I--I’m just weird.” He shakes his head. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“But our team name!”

“Oh, right.”

“How abouuuut...Larry?”

Louis starts cracking up. “Larry? What the hell, Harry. We’re not just naming things that rhyme with your name. ”

“No, no, listen.” Harry puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder, laughing too. “Listen. It’s like our names together. Like Louis and Harry!”

“Is it?” Louis looks amused. “You don’t like Harris?”

“That makes no sense. The--The end of your name doesn’t sound like that.” Harry hiccups. “Annnd! And I named one of the squirrels in our old backyard Larry when I was little.”

“Well, that fits just perfectly for beer pong then. Good job, Curly.”

“Thanks,” Harry answers. He claps this hands together. “So, hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“I don’t even know what beer pong is,” Harry admits. He doesn’t care. He still wants to play. “So don’t be mad if I suck.”

“I’ll help you. And even if you suck I’ll just take the blame myself.”

Louis laughs when Harry pushes him playfully. As they look at each other and drink, they continue to smile with their eyes. Harry has no idea what music is playing from the living room, but he dances to it in front of Louis on their way to the garage, anyway, and though he can’t see Louis’ eyes watching him, he sure can feel them.

As Harry continues to sip on his excellently tasty beer, he watches what’s going on from the sidelines for a little bit. In just a few minutes, he learns a lot about both the game and about different people’s personalities--like how Niall is actually an extremely competitive person, how Preston is a sore loser, and how his sister is somehow a beast who everyone’s in awe of. He crosses his eyes at her when she wins what Harry finds out is her third game in a row. Eventually, he and Louis get a chance to play, but when Harry makes their team drastically lose in hardly any time at all, Louis pulls him out of the game and suggests they go downstairs.

“But the music is good in here,” Harry whines. He tries to look seductive by pouting.

Louis chuckles. “There's music downstairs, too. And...there’s less people.”

“But it’s good in here. Let’s play again.” Louis’s not drunk. He’s not acting drunk. He still looks all tired. How is Harry supposed to get him to make out with him and _not stop_ if he’s not even feeling a buzz? How is this plan going to work at all?

“Again?”

“Yeah!”

“Think that’s a good idea? We were two seconds away from having to streak through the house.”

“Huh?”

“Your sister almost got all of our cups before we got one of hers, Haz. If she won without us gettin’ any at all, the rule is you have to run around naked.”

“Well, I do that, anyway,” Harry discloses. “Let’s go back.”

“Do you now?”

“Do I what?”

“Run around naked.”

Harry nods quickly. “My belly hurts,” he suddenly gropes, finding himself in another room that’s not the garage. He lifts his shirt up to show Louis how swollen his stomach is.

Louis stares a long time before saying something. “You feel sick?”

Harry drops his shirt and shakes his head. “I’m just really full.”

“You drank a lot. Do me a favor and slow it down, yeah? All the other people who took shots earlier are already in the bathrooms. And that’s where they’re prob’ly gonna be for the rest of the night.”

“Oh, no,” Harry laments. “I don’t want that. That’s the worst.”

“Yeah, sucks for them. It’ll be fun to watch everyone who’s still up in another hour or two, though,” Louis tells him, eyes bright now as he grabs Harry’s hand leads the way into the basement. “Everyone always drinks too fast and burns out at these things.”

“Are you--” Harry hiccups. “Are you drunk yet?”

“Nah,” Louis answers. “Not really.”

Harry frowns. “How many drinks have you had?”

“Three, I think. A beer and two of these,” Louis tells Harry, holding up the same red solo cup he’s had all night.

“That’s it?”

“And all the beer from the game. So that’s...I drank some for you, so that’s...how many is that?”

“Do--That’s lots--so why aren’t you drunk?”

Louis laughs. “It just takes more for Alphas.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Harry keeps following Louis, dizzy. “So are you not havin’ fun?”

“Course,” Louis simply says. “My ruts always make me...like, tired, I guess. I know I’m a complete bore. I’m not usually...like this, you know. But I'm havin’ fun. I’m with you.”

“Does that--is that a good thing?”

“I’m with you,” Louis repeats, smiling. “I’m having fun. It’s like, math.”

“Harry plus Louis equals fun?”

“Yes.”

Harry holds his stomach and laughs. “But I wanna see you drunk.”

“Why you wanna see me drunk so bad, huh? You tryin’ to take advantage of me?”

Harry giggles. “Maybe. Maybe I just wanna see you drunk.”

“Then who would be the one to watch over you, huh?”

“ _Louis._ ” Harry’s on the floor now. He’s found a nice spot to plop down on. A few people are around him on couches and stuff, but he sees most of them outside through the set of French-doors straight ahead.

“What?”

“I don’t need a baby--I don’t need a babysitter.” He holds out his arms. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, is that what I am? Your babysitter?”

Harry smiles when Louis sits next to him on the carpet. “What are you?”

“I think I’m more, like, your protector.”

“My protector?” Harry starts laughing. “Am I at risk of being attacked?” he asks in a regal accent.

Louis shrugs. “Alphas keep looking at you.”

“No, they don’t,” Harry mumbles, feeling himself start to blush.

“But they do.”

No, they don’t. Harry links his arm with Louis’. “Whatever. They won’t mess with me if I’m next to you.”

“That’s my point, idiot.”

Harry giggles and puts his head on Louis’ shoulder.

“Young Hazza.”

Harry sticks out his tongue. “‘M not young. You’re just old.”

“Ouch.”

Harry sits with a dopey grin, swaying a bit, when Niall approaches him from out of nowhere with a small bottle of tequila and two shot glasses. He sits next to Harry on the floor.

“Shots?” Niall offers.

Harry stares at him as he already begins filling the small glasses. “Uh. I don’t--Do you have a beer instead maybe?”

“Nah, just this.” Niall holds it out to Harry and smiles. “It’s from Mexico.”

Harry contemplates taking it, staring down at Niall’s hand. It probably won’t do anything to him, but before he can say anything, Louis speaks up.

“I’ll do it with you,” he says cheerily.

“All right!” Niall exclaims. “My man!”

After they throw back not just one but two shots of tequila, Niall throws his arm around Louis and they make weird noises from their mouths, like they’re singing or cheering, just getting pumped up together. It’s amusing. Harry can only assume this is how Alphas act together in the locker rooms before big football games or something. He laughs.

Just then, the basement lights dim. Harry looks up and sees Calvin stepping inside with a line of guys following him. He’s holding up a wine bottle, showing it to the room. “Hey, guys, circle up if you’re in. We’re gonna play Spin-the-Bottle.”

As people start sitting on the floor around him, Harry quickly moves out of the area. When he takes a spot on the nearby couch that people have just left, he’s pleased to see that Louis has followed him.

Harry kicks out his leg and presses his toes into Louis’ stomach. “You’re not gonna play the game?”

“Spin the Bottle?” Louis replies, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his drink. After playfully wrestling Harry’s foot away from his chest, he sits down and puts his hand on Harry’s knee. “Like I want to kiss anyone but you.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly up, and before he can say anything in response, a few more people file into the room from outside, including Stan and some members of the football team. Harry recognizes Ashton and Liam and waves. Then he goes back to picking on Louis, wiggling his body around and tickling him with his toes again. For some reason, Louis isn’t playing along anymore. He’s gone rigid and silent.

“Sorry,” Harry tells him, realizing he’s really starting to feel the effects of however many beers he’s just ingested and is acting annoying. He stares out into the room and sees that the large circle of people have begun playing the game.

Harry doesn’t get how people can do it so effortlessly. Kiss like that. Kissing Louis is a huge deal for him each and every time they do it, and it doesn’t seem to change. It always sort of feels like a first kiss. Like, in a good way, but Harry doesn’t know. There’s always nervousness. Kind of like they’re afraid. These people playing the game are just kissing random people like it’s nothing.

Harry needs to be like that, too. He has to be like that if he’s ever gonna get what he wants. Besides, it’s _kissing_. It’s not like it’s life or death. And they’ve already done it before. Harry knows what he’s doing. Sort of.

“Maybe we could play Spin-the-Bottle where the whole room isn’t watchin’,” Harry successfully gets out to Louis without stuttering or sounding stupid. The words just... _come out_. When he’s not throwing up from it, alcohol really is a great thing.

“Welp, I’m out,” Niall says loudly. “No one wants to fuck with my braces anyway.”

Harry can’t help but laugh at that. When Louis just stares at him in silence, Harry bites his lip but still continues to smile brightly. He really, really likes Louis. Everything about Louis, from his stupid cute hair to his stupid cute eyes to his stupid cute bags under his eyes. Even the stupid cute scar on his neck has Harry’s love. Much of it. Harry’s teeth release his bottom lip as he sighs a bit, desperately wishing he had the same mark on his own neck instead. Wishing it was something completely different.

“You wanna go outside?” Louis finally asks. His arm is around Harry now. His fingers are touching his skin. It feels better than it normally does.

“Mm.”

Louis stands up then, looking down. “Hey. You okay?”

“Great.” Harry grins.

Louis chuckles and holds out his hand for Harry to grab onto. “You sure?”

Harry nods confidently. He holds up two fingers. “I’ve only had three beers. Four beers,” he corrects, adding another finger. “‘M fine.”

“Alright,” Louis concedes, and he doesn’t look like he believes Harry. “No more for you, then. Think it’s safe to say you got drunker than I thought you would.”

“I’m fine,” Harry repeats, but everything is moving. Not in a bad way, but it’s still moving. He holds onto Louis’ arm, stands up, and starts laughing as he watches two omegas playing Spin-the-Bottle crawl on their hands and knees across the floor until their lips meet.

“Do I need to do one of those tests on you?” Louis teases, laughing, too. “To see if you’re drunk? Make you walk a straight line and say your alphabet backwards?”

“I’m not drunk, you’re drunk,” Harry counters.

“Oh, after Niall’s illegal tequila, yeah, probably,” Louis laughs.

As they walk outside together--Harry randomly barefoot-- Louis continues, “I’ll still do it.”

“Do what?”

“Do a test on you,” Louis answers. “Here. I’ll do it now. Lean back and touch your nose with the tip of your finger.” Louis stops walking and crosses his arms seriously.

Harry does not lean backwards but does succeed in touching his nose with his finger. “There. Not drunk!”

“Okay, Haz,” Louis chuckles.

“So you! You...Go--” Harry makes something up. “Go climb the side of the house and say the--say the Statue of Liberty!”

Louis raises an eyebrow and grins. “Say the Statue of Liberty?”

“I mean the Declaration of Independence.”

“What the fuck, Harry? Who the fuck knows that?”

Harry laughs so hard he can’t keep quiet. He keeps meaning to say something that they had to memorize in the fourth grade--something written on a big piece of paper--something important--but he can’t remember what it was called. His eyes begin to water.

“Whatever,” Louis brushes off. “I’ll do it. I’ll climb the house. For you, I’ll climb the house and recite the Statue of Liberty. I’m not afraid to do it.”

Harry pushes Louis a bit with his shoulder. “You’re not afraid of anything.”

“Oh, I’m not?” Louis asks.

Seeking out Louis’s fingertips with his own, Harry brushes his hand against Louis’ as they continue to walk aimlessly. “Nuh-uh.”

“Goes to show how much you know. Maybe I sleep with a nightlight like you used to.”

“ _Noo,"_  Harry says. “I’ve slept beside you before, ‘member?”

Louis smiles and wraps an arm around Harry’s back, and Harry just feels _comfortable._  He always wants it to be like this. “I do remember.”

“I love it sleeping next to you,” Harry admits loudly. “I miss it.”

“Me, too,” Louis replies. “You can come sneak up anytime, you know. We live together. My bed’s too big for just me. It needs you in it.”

Harry giggles. _They live together. His bed needs Harry in it._

“You can even bring your old nightlight into my room,” Louis goes on. “It was Winnie the Pooh, right?” Louis digs his free hand into Harry’s ribcage.

Harry laughs so loudly he clamps a hand over his mouth. And nothing was even funny. Not funny at all. “That’s not fair,” he folds his upper body down and says, cracking up so much his mouth is wide open. “You know my ticklish spots, this isn’t fair!”

“Well, that’s the point, babe.” Harry’s breathless, and Louis goes on harmlessly picking on him. “Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh…”

Shaking his head, Harry laughs. “It wasn’t Pooh.”

Louis steps in front of Harry now, walking backwards as Harry keeps walking forward. “It wasn’t?”

“Nope.”

“Tell me what it was then.” Louis’s swaying a bit now, grinning, so he puts his hands on Harry’s waist to center himself, and Harry can’t stop giggling.

He helplessly shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t tell me what it was?” Louis presses.

Harry giggles again. Everything’s so funny. “I can’t remember what we were talking about.”

“Your Winnie the Pooh nightlight.”

“Oh.” Harry’s laughter dies down a bit. “It was Mickey.”

“Lies.”

They reach a tiny gazebo towards the side of the yard, and a swinging bench hangs in the middle of it. The only light in the area is from the moon, and Louis’s still walking backwards, so they both stumble together as they approach it. Louis slumps back onto the swing, messily pulling Harry down with him, and Harry’s entire world spins as they keep laughing together. His mouth is sore from smiling.

“It was,” Harry maintains. “It was Mickey Mouse.”

“These are lies you’re telling me,” Louis says, pulling Harry down closer, and Harry immediately makes a strategic move. Dropping his smile some, he tilts his head to show his neck. In the dark, it’s not that dangerous. Even though he immediately feels Louis’ nose pressed to it, it’s not that dangerous. In the distance, a few people who haven’t gone inside for the game are swimming in the pool. Harry can’t see through his blurry vision, but he can hear them. They’re close. They’re far enough.

“I’m not lying,” Harry answers softly. “I can’t _even_ lie.”

He guesses that is what he’s really doing, though. In the grand scheme of things. This whole stupid practice thing he’s gotten himself involved in, this--this--this _plan_ to make Louis fall in love with him. It’s gotta work, though. It’s gotta. He’s just got to step it up some. Stop thinking about it so much. Just let it happen. _Initiate it_ , like Ashton used to always say Alphas like. For some reason, Harry finds it to be so much easier to do tonight. His mind is so much more _clear_ than usual. Everyone else is doing this. Everyone else is hooking up.

Harry thinks about every movie he's ever watched where pretty omegas make Alphas weak at the knees, and, leaning his head down so some hair falls to the side, he sits up and loops a leg around Louis ’ waist, straddling him. He pushes his hips forward so he’s as snug against Louis’ waist as he can be, and by this point, Louis has already backed away and is looking at Harry curiously.

Louis pauses. His voice is low. “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” Harry asks innocently.

His smile hasn’t completely left yet as he pushes on Louis’ chest. When Louis’s completely laying down on the bench, Harry hesitates for only two seconds before pressing his body and his lips against his and instantly moving his mouth the way that Louis always does when he kisses Harry first.

It’s enough of a surprise to make Louis’ breath come out, and he speaks directly into Harry's mouth: “Well, damn, Harry, you could warn a--”

But Harry just keeps kissing him through his talking until he begins to feel Louis respond. Harry’s mouth that was so wide with laughter just a second ago is now wide for another reason. Wide and then small again, wide and then small again. Harry knows the rhythm now, and he tries not to giggle at how well this is working. He knows he’s doing it right. He knows it’s what Louis likes because he’s starting to make the noises in his chest that he doesn’t think Harry can ever hear. He’s got his arms wrapped around Harry and he’s gripping Harry’s skin tight like he’s keeping him from moving. These are good things. This feels good.

Allowing instinct to take over completely, Harry opens his mouth a little more and confidently pushes his tongue to seek out Louis’. Eventually, when he feels Louis’ tongue touch his, he can tell that Louis has officially taken over the lead just from the way it moves. Finally. Even though he’s on top of Louis, Harry’s body melts being so secure in his arms. Yayyy.

Or maybe _boo_. Harry wants to be the one to surprise Louis here, wants to be the one who makes Louis feel all tingly and out-of-control like Harry always does before he can pull away and stop like he always does. The goal is to make him _mate him_ , so everything’s gotta be good. Great. Unforgettable. With the thought of perfection in his mind, Harry backs away just a tiny bit and starts sucking on Louis’ tongue, showing him that he’s not going to get all overwhelmed and sweaty and weird this time. He may be sort of drunk, but he can still do this. It’s easy.

Harry backs away only enough to smile with his eyes, and then they’re at it again.

His and Louis’ faces move gently left-and-right while their tongues sloppily glide then eventually stab, and as their mouths grow wetter, so do Harry’s underwear, and then it gets a little hard to remember everything that happens next because their bodies start moving, too.

When Louis actually grunts, Harry whines. They’re so close there’s not much room to move, but Harry’s hands travel to the sides of Louis’ face and then into his hair, pulling, and when everything becomes tighter and their skin grows hotter, all the giddiness Harry has been holding onto sort of melts and moulds into some sort of ball of feelings that can’t be contained. Like he’s grown accustomed to doing when things get to this point, Harry clutches and squeezes all of his limbs around Louis and whimpers because it feels so good. This must be the best their kissing has ever been.

Even from underneath Harry, Louis still manages to break the kiss. Harry feels his chest move rapidly up and down. “Easy, Harry. Hold up.”

Harry just shakes his head, desperate. Desperate for this not to stop. Why would he ever stop this? His wet lips move back to Louis’ face, kissing along his jaw until he meets his mouth again.

“Harry, _easy,"_  Louis says again, almost pleading as he moves his face away a bit. “I gotta--”

“I don’t wanna go easy,” Harry whines. He does the only thing he can think of that’ll keep Louis from stopping this, and he licks Louis’ bottom lip before biting it. When Louis doesn’t protest, Harry does it again, turning it into some sort of rhythmic thing like kissing, except it’s nibbling, and it’s strangely gratifying. He starts moving his body again.

Louis scoots away a little bit. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

Harry wipes his mouth. He’s panting. They both are. “Do what?”

“All the..biting,” Louis says, motioning to his lip. “The...Shit, all of this, Haz... Where’d you learn to... do all this?”

Harry starts losing confidence. He shrugs and moves a little so his face isn’t so close to Louis’ anymore. “I thought you would like it.”

“I do, I do,” Louis answers quickly.

Harry suddenly feels embarrassed, but he feels like he shouldn't. Louis’ finger on his chin brings his eyes back up to meet his.

“Hey.” Harry won’t meet his eyes until Louis makes him do it again by force. “Harry. You’re kinda drunk.”

“So? Just ‘cause I’m drunk doesn’t mean I don’t know what I like. It doesn’t...it doesn’t change...”

Louis’ lips turn up. “You like this kinda stuff?”

His voice is what Harry can only describe as husky when he speaks, and Harry’s completely taken over by it. Louis has moved to the very back of the bench, in the little dip there, and this lets Harry lay down on his side, as well. They’re so close Harry can feel every part of Louis’ body.

“Only if you do,” he answers quietly. He feels like shuddering. Things have suddenly gotten really intense. “You’re the one who knows what you’re doing.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know that I…” Harry looks away. He’d tried so fucking hard. He’s ruined it again. By talking. “You. You know. You’ve kissed other people before.”

“One other person. And that...that doesn’t count.” Louis shifts his body a bit, making the swing move before pulling Harry even closer. He smiles. His eyes look watery. “Hey. Maybe I need the practice, too.”

“You don’t need any practice. You’re--you know what you’re doing.” Harry hiccups, and he swears at himself under his breath. “And I--You probably think I’m the worst kisser ever.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Louis murmurs. “Here you go, lyin’ again.”

Harry sighs. “But hey--if you liked it--if you like it,” he corrects, “you wouldn’t stop. Right?”

“Harry.” For a minute, Louis looks conflicted, but Harry’s just imagining it. “I like everything you do. Trust me.” Louis punctuates the statement by pulling Harry forward again and kissing him wetly. Once, twice. He feels Louis’ fingers in his hair now, and he can’t think enough to worry anymore. He’s gone again.

“Hmm,” Harry murmurs. He can’t think clearly suddenly. _I like everything you do._ Louis couldn’t’ve meant it the way it sounded, but damn, Harry likes it anyway. _Trust me._ After a short series of kisses, Harry grins goofily and slides a leg in between both of Louis’. Then he bites Louis’ bottom lip again just because he can.

“You really like biting, huh? Doesn’t bother you?”

Harry shakes his head into Louis’ neck.

“Then...c’mere,” Louis suggests quietly, pulling Harry’s face forward with light pressure to the back of his head. “Let's try it again.”

“Really?”

Louis nods. “I need the practice.”

“Yes.” Harry’s face lowers, eyes droopy. “Yes. The practice.”

As their lips align and they get acquainted once more with each other’s hot breath, vulgar noises from nearby alert Harry to open his eyes. Breaking away from Harry, Louis sits up on his elbows and cranes his neck. “Are they--are they seriously pissin’ in the pool over there?”

Harry follows Louis’ line-of-sight and squints his eyes. “They’re havin’ a contest. I think--is that...?”

“Stan.” Louis’ head hits the bench again and he shakes his head. There’s a slight smile on his lips as he brings his hand up to Harry’s eyes and covers them. “Don’t look.”

“Ugh.”

They chuckle together a little bit until the moment loses its passion and dims to just a quiet yearning.

“So I dunno about you,” Louis sits up fully and finally speaks, “but I don’t wanna cuddle with such a pretty boy with that in the background. You wanna go inside?”

Harry drops his mouth. He nods.

Walking back inside isn’t as loud as walking outside had been. There’s a quiet purpose, and they stride side-by-side in a weird sort of daze, Harry just desperate to make out again. When they reach and enter the now-completely-dark basement, Harry stays behind Louis, but they’re holding hands. At least he doesn’t have to worry about people looking at them and commenting on it. Everybody else is hooking up, too. Literally everyone. Everywhere Harry looks.

Against one wall, Calvin’s chest-to-chest with Will, making out so intensely Harry blushes, and as he looks around even more, he sees a handful of couples doing the same thing on the couches, including Liam and Zayn. He smells sweat and alcohol.

He’s up a flight of stairs. Then another. Louis’s opening doors but finding them occupied. Each second that passes without them kissing makes Harry anxious. He wants to be alone with Louis. He wants Louis to bite him back.

“There’s the room up at the very top floor with the pool table,” Harry reminds Louis. “...Isn’t there?”

“Yeah, but that’s a rec-room,” Louis mutters. “I wanna--” Louis keeps speaking in distraction as he opens the next free door and looks inside. It’s taken. He walks on. “--Find one with a lock. So no one can bother you.”

Coming to the end of whatever hallway they’re in, Louis walks inside the last door there and locks the door behind Harry once he’s fully inside, too.

Harry looks around. It’s dark, but he knows it’s big, and they are large furniture everywhere and just as large picture frames on the walls. “Whose room is this?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis answers. “It has a bed. You don’t gotta sleep on the floor.”

Harry nods. They’re still holding hands, and he doesn’t know what to do now. They go to the bed. Harry hops in. Louis switches off the main bedroom light and switches on the one in the en suite bathroom. Harry instinctively takes off his jeans. He can’t sleep with them on. Louis gets under the covers, too. It’s quiet. Harry’s lost some confidence to just attack Louis again like earlier, and he’s stuck just staring at him with the blanket up to his neck.

When Louis gets close, both of them staring face-to-face, Harry feels Louis’ cold hand touch the exposed skin of his waist from where his shirt’s ridden up. The hand explores.

Louis’ voice is a whisper. “....Where’re your pants?”

Harry’s voice is just as quiet. “The floor.”

“Harry…”

And devilishly, Harry smiles, and his confidence comes back. He lifts a leg to get on top of Louis again like outside, but Louis’ firm hand stops him.

“No,” Louis tells him. “I’m doing this now.”

And Harry gladly rolls over on his back.

At first, things are great. It’s slower than it was outside when Harry just bombarded Louis with his mouth. Louis starts by peppering kisses along Harry’s jaw, almost tickling him because his face is sort of stubbly, but the kisses are sweet. It almost feels like heaven, and Harry has the instinct to spread his legs. For a minute, he gets lost in the floaty feeling running through his veins and pretends that Louis’s his actual mate. This is _their_ room, and they’re a couple, and this is their--this is their bonding ceremony night, and this is when Louis’s gonna consummate the bond--fuck--

Lips are on his neck. Louis’s breathing is hot. Harry’s gonna die. And they haven’t even resumed their kissing yet. “Louis, I’m--That feels really good.”

And why would that make Louis stop? He backs away, using his arms to lift himself up so his body isn’t even touching Harry’s anymore. He’s breathing fast just like he was outside, and, groaning, he rolls over on his back.

Harry won’t have it. He follows Louis immediately, rolling on top of him before ultimately straddling him, and he gasps when he remembers that he’s not wearing any pants. Even though Louis definitely is, Harry’s mouth drops.

“Harry--”

Harry pivots forward and kisses Louis again, not believing before now that a feeling this good could even exist in a person’s body. He thinks he’s moaning from it. Right into Louis’ mouth.

Louis’ hands are around Harry’s back, squeezing, and Harry puts one of his own hands on top of one of Louis’ in order to push it further down. When Louis’ hand is on Harry’s ass, right in the middle of the back of his underwear, Louis squeezes there, too, then places it back up to the small of Harry’s back again.

Harry moves his face to bite little areas around Louis’ neck. Kissing on the neck feels so good, and Harry had no idea. While sucking there, he seeks out Louis’ hips again and presses his own tightly against them, desperately wishing Louis would just move his hand back to where he’d put it to begin with. The pressure inside him is getting so heavy that he can’t stop moving his body. Again, Harry puts Louis’ hand on his ass right as he bites down hard on Louis’ neck, right over where there’s already a scar in the shape of his teeth, and--

“Harry--fuck--” Louis gasps. “Okay. I think--I think that you--” Louis tries pulling Harry off of him.

“What if I really marked you there? On top of your scar? Would you let me?” Harry wipes his mouth and smiles.

“How did you get this drunk,” Louis mumbles before lifting Harry’s body off his own. The movement from the action makes Harry’s upper body sway, and the loss of contact makes him acutely aware of how much his body’s been throbbing. He hates it.

“Louis. But--but the--” Harry touches the scar on Louis’ neck. “it was just...You said you liked it.”

“I do like it,” Louis admits quietly.

Harry moves to sit on Louis’ lap again, but Louis stops him. “Then let’s do it more…”

“We can kiss, but just--You’re drunk.”

Harry’s head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as it suddenly drops between his legs. “I’m not that drunk.”

“Are you about to throw up?”

“No,” Harry argues, speaking muffled into the blanket. “I just want to lay on you.”

Louis sighs. “You’re really fucking killing me here.”

“Why?”

“You’re...Harry, you got really drunk.”

Harry lifts his upper body and slurs, “No drunker than you got.”

“I--Yeah.”

Harry lifts his leg again, moving to get on top of Louis again, but Louis’ hands keep Harry’s body from moving. “Harry--”

Harry frowns. It’s not that he doesn’t mind having Louis keeping him from moving. He doesn’t feel trapped. All he knows is that Louis is telling him no. He’s pushing Harry away. That means no. Stop. No more. He’s being rejected. He’s crying before the thought of crying even enters his mind.

“Harry--No--Don’t cry, don’t cry.” Louis is everywhere, and it’s stifling. “What can I do?”

“What you were doing before.” Harry can’t stop whining. But Louis just doesn’t get it. His feelings have suddenly become unbearable.

“Harry, I can’t--” Louis grunts. “...I can’t control this, seriou--”

Harry lifts a leg and throws it over Louis’ waist before Louis can stop him. “But you don’t have to control anything.”

“Yeah, I really do,” Louis replies, strained.

“Well, I don’t want you to.”

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’, Haz.”

Harry’s done. Maybe he is drunk. He feels mad at Louis. And he never feels mad at Louis. He forcefully moves away from him and sits upright, far out of Louis’ reach so he can’t touch him. “Why? Because I’m so young and stupid?”

“Calm down.” With a firm hand, Louis reaches out to cup Harry’s face. “Because you’re drunk.”

“But I’m the one _asking_ , Louis.” Harry crosses his arms. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, and--I just don’t want you to do something drunk ‘cause you feel like you have to do it. All right?”

Harry finds his jeans and puts them back on. He won’t look at Louis. “Well, maybe I don’t want you to do something ‘cause you feel like you have to, either.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I know you feel really bad for me or--or whatever, but you--you really don’t have to keep doin’ this. I know you don’t want to. So you can stop now. Really.” He leaves the bed and slams the door on his way into the hall. He doesn’t know where any of that came from, but it sounded good coming out. Quickly running away with sticky underwear, part of him hopes that Louis will chase him, but part of him just wants to be alone so he can cry in peace. Louis doesn’t want him, Louis’s never wanted him, and Harry’s a fucking idiot.

What kind of a fucking omega has to talk an Alpha into doing this stuff in the first place? Aren’t Alphas already born just wanting to do it anyway? The fact that a drunk omega couldn’t even get an Alpha to touch him is...it’s pathetic! Harry’s pathetic. Louis doesn’t want this.

But Harry still wants Louis. He starts sobbing, feeling at the wall as he finds his way out the front door. He’s so confused.

Harry staggers around on the porch until he runs away far enough to be alone by the side of the house. He lays on his back and smells an Alpha nearby. Of course.

“Harry,” he hears Ashton’s voice. “How ya goin’?”

Harry sniffs and covers his face. “Shitty.”

“What happened to you?”

Harry shakes his head and feels his eyes burn. He rolls over with difficulty onto his stomach. “Something’s wrong with me.”

“Besides you being pissed?"

Harry hears Ashton laughing at him.

“You know what, I am pissed. I am pissed _off_ that I did everything you told me to do--I did everything you said--I did it like you said it--and I get shit. I get shit for it.”

“No, I meant--drunk--pissed, drunk?” Ashton rolls Harry over onto his back again. “Damn, Harry. What the hell happened to you?”

“I did everything you said--’member when you told me stuff about omegas asking for what they want and, and, you know. Doing it. I did that.”

“Get up off the ground, mate,” Ashton tugs on Harry’s lifeless arms.

“I’m going to sleep until I feel better.” Harry shakes his head. His arms flop to the grass.  “Wait, no. Can’t sleep. Louis’s here.”

Harry squints an eye, and there’s Louis, looking down on him. His hair is all fucked up, and he looks like he’s grimacing. He turns to Ashton and growls. “What the hell is this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super hard to write, especially because i dont like it to be negative or cliche, but thats the way the story goes...


	17. everything is new to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be an annoying chapter. Yes, I know Louis is dense. Yes, I know he is frustrating. He’s just a really confused and really horny guy right now, and then there’s other stuff going on that I can’t explain yet. But if you’re finding yourself questioning why he reacts certain ways to certain things Or has such nonsensical behavior it’s because he’s insecure. Just keep reminding yourself of that. Just like Harry is, but worse since he feels like he has so much pressure to prove himself to people. And to himself, too. Except he’s also lazy and sort of doesn’t care at the same time. It’s frustrating. He’s a teenager.
> 
> If you're curious of when things will really start to spark with Harry and Louis, it's all in the next chapter and builds from there.
> 
> Also --if anyone wants to read about A/B/O stuff I have it at the end of this chapter because it's too long for a note, otherwise I would've made it one. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

It only took seconds to react to Harry leaving the room. Now, definitely still drunk, definitely still hard, and now suddenly boiling with rage, Louis finds himself at a weird level of mental clarity faced with protecting him that he can’t explain the origin of. Just as he'd acted immediately on impulse by chasing Harry outside, he acts on impulse to make sure he's safe. Before Ashton can even react, Louis takes every ounce of energy that's within him and punches him square in the middle of his face--twice--effectively removing the threat of him being able to touch Harry again. It’s like it’s slow motion.

There's a bellow that echoes throughout the early-morning air before Ashton doubles over, holding his gushing nose with both hands. “What the fuck, man?!”

Ashton's taller than Louis, so Louis squares his shoulders, stepping aside little by little to move the scene away from Harry. He’s prepared for a fight, even though he’s doing nothing but protecting Harry, so he taunts Ashton because maybe that’s what he really wants. It’ll release his frustration, at least. His frustration at himself.

“I told you not to fuck with him anymore.” Louis cracks his knuckles. “Dumbass. Bet you’ll think twice now, won’t you?” The knowledge that this asshole was so affected by Harry’s smell that _he was about to mount him_ has Louis so angry he could be sick. That’s _Louis’_ scent to smell. “Hit me. I dare you.”

“I wasn't doin’ shit, you fucking lunatic,” Ashton tells him, standing up fully. Blood runs down from his nostrils to stain his upper lip.

“An Alpha on top of an omega not doin’ shit, huh? You realize he’s fuckin’ drunk?”

Ashton’s mouth drops. “You’re wrong--”

“How am I wrong?” Louis’ blood is so hot he could take off his shirt. He does. “Tell me how I’m wrong. He smells like me, I know he does, so what’s your problem?”

When Louis starts hitting his chest, Ashton stares at him like he’s mortified, and good. After every single shitty feeling brought on from whatever’s been going on with him and Harry tonight, hitting something would benefit him. He could use some pain. And, fuck, can he run his mouth.

“Why don’t you just go back to Australia? You’ve already stayed here long enough for all the omegas to figure out you clearly--”

When he’s hit hard enough in his jaw to make his teeth cut into his tongue, Louis doesn’t even rub his face before he catapults forward and starts trying to punch any bit of Ashton he can reach. He tries pushing him down to the ground, but he can’t, so his fists just swing. Swatting away every one of these attempts, Ashton deflects Louis’ punches and eventually backs away, chest heaving.

Louis’s so shaken he’s salivating. He feels like bouncing on the tips of his toes. “Come on. Fight me. Do it.”

Instead of giving him the fight he wants, Ashton shakes his head and begins walking away to the backyard. “Fuck you,” he mutters.

From the ground, Harry groans. “Heyyy. Guys. Stop. Stop.”

“That’s it?” Louis steps in front of Harry and spits on the ground. “You're runnin’ away?”

“You hit me, I hit you,” Ashton calls back. “We’re even. Let it fuckin’ go.”

Harry’s pulling at Louis’ jeans. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Louis says in distraction, then turns his attention back to Ashton. “I knew you were gonna come back for him. You’re crazy if you think I’m just gonna let this go--”

“You’re the fuckin’ mad one! The only reason I’m not doin’ this shit is ’cause Harry’s my friend. Why he likes you so much beats the fuck outta me, mate.”

“Well, that’s rude--”

“I’m not your fuckin’ mate.” Louis sways where he stands. “And the only reason you’re not fightin’ back is ‘cause you’re scared. You’re a piece of shit just like I said you were, and you’re scared.”

Ashton points a finger at Louis. “You’ve got fuckin’ issues.”

“My issue is you fuckin’ with him after I told you to leave him alone.”

Ashton brings up his shirt to blow his bloody nose into, and when he drops it again, Louis notices some other Alpha from the football team making his way around the corner of the house. He walks until he’s next to Ashton, and when he looks at Ashton’s face, he stands visibly taller.

“I got this,” Ashton tells him, even though not a word was said. “Look--if you come at me again--ever--I won’t be so nice. This is a warning. Just let me be.”

“Don’t threaten me,” Louis snaps. “Or, fine, whatever. Threaten me all you want. You’re all talk, anyway. Not gonna do shit. Not without your football-team backup, at least. I’ve seen how you are alone. Piece of shit.” He’s literally asking for it now. Literally. Bring it on. One Alpha. Two Alphas. He can handle it. He cracks his knuckles again.

“You’re just mad you got kicked off the team ‘cause you suck so much,” the Alpha beside Ashton taunts.

“Is that right?” Louis asks. “Suppose you know more than I do. Being a freshman and all.”

“I'm better than you ever were, fat ass. Couldn’t even throw a ball.”

Louis jolts forward and shouts, “Want me to break your fuckin’ nose, too?!” and he must look so crazy that it scares both of the Alphas because they both back away. “I’ll fuckin’ do it! _DON’T PLAY WITH ME!_ ”

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry whines. He’s now sitting up, eyes closed, hands on his ears. “Stop using your voice...”

Ashton spits on the ground and walks away, and Louis is left heaving by Harry’s side, covered in sweat just from adrenaline. He thinks about chasing after the pair of Alphas to ambush them from behind but thinks better of it. He doesn’t want to leave Harry. “Fucking dicks.”

When Louis crouches down, he’s upset to see how bad Harry looks. He's delirious and sad, and his eyes are wet. “Let's go.”

Harry lays back down on the grass. “I’m sleepy.”

“Then you can sleep in a bed,” Louis tells him, lifting him up. It’s impossible to carry him, so he wraps an arm around his back instead, throwing one of Harry’s own arms around his shoulder to take most of his weight. When they’re finally back upstairs, Louis helps Harry get back under the covers of the bed they were just in.

Even knowing Harry is safe, Louis can't calm down. Being beside Harry and knowing no one’s going to bother him anymore should make him feel better. _He_ protected him. The big fucktard of an Alpha, about to take advantage of Harry, was chased away. _Louis_ chased him away. He should feel victorious. Harry’s in bed next to _him_ tonight. Harry’d kissed _him_ tonight. Harry won’t remember any of it, of course, but Louis still should feel somewhat proud. Instead, he's jittery, frustrated, and on edge. He can’t stop running his hands through his hair. _He knows how to fucking throw a football._

“Why’re you so mad at Ashton?” Harry slurs, eyes closed. He's laying flat on his back. “You sounded mean.”

Louis’ fists are clenched. “He was touching you.”

“No,” Harry denies quietly. “I was sleeping. But thank you for bringing me to a--” he stops to hiccup-- “to a bed to lay in.”

Louis groans and rubs his face with his hands until he’s sure his eyes are squinty.  Harry’s just drunk. Way drunker than Louis himself is, but Louis knows alcohol affects omegas differently. At least with Oli, it does. He normally throws up everywhere. Apparently instead of Harry getting sick, he just gets very emotional. In...many different ways.

If only if Harry acted that way and said the things he said tonight when he was sober. If only he wasn't drunk when he asked Louis to do all those things tonight. Maybe Louis would have the guts to actually be an actual Alpha then. Or...maybe not. Maybe he'd still feel sour inside, like this is just an act. Like he’s not being honest. Not giving Harry what he truly deserves.

Louis’s feeling less like an Alpha by the minute. “Does he still--do you guys still talk?”

“Who?”

Louis doesn’t want to say his name. “Ashton.”

Harry smacks his lips and turns on his side. “We have French class together.”

“So that’s a yes.” Louis grits his teeth. Fuck that guy.

Harry nods. His eyes are finally open, but they're slits. “Avec moi,” he starts laughing.

“He’s still your friend after everything that happened?”

Harry doesn’t answer but ends up nodding again. He yawns.

Great. “Well, look,” Louis starts. He sits up taller against the headboard. He's gotta say something, something to help ease the dirty feeling that he's just been manipulating Harry with this whole situation he's put them in.

“You know I can...I just want you to know that I can treat you better than he can, Harry. I can. I’ll prove it to you. I know that--I mean, I’m kinda drunk right now, too, and I guess you might be mad at me even though in my head, this all is--it does make sense, I promise, but I--just--listen. When you’re not drunk, you just have to ask then. If that’s what you want. Okay? I’ll do anything you want. I'll...be anything you want me to be. If you want that kind of stuff, just ask then. Just ask me to.”

Having diverted his eyes from Harry this whole time, Louis finally peeks at him again. His mouth is wide open, he's snoring from deep in the back of his throat, and his white shirt is stained with dirt. Frayed bracelets that Louis gave Harry long ago litter both of his wrists and forearms. Louis flattens his body and sinks his head into his pillow, not looking away. After several minutes, the image and sounds of Harry sleeping finally calm him down somewhat.

Something’s gotta give. Louis’s an Alpha. He’s an Alpha. He doesn’t have to be feeling so fucking... _bad_ about this shit. He just has to get better. Improve. Stop making Harry cry. He can do this. He’s read the book before on how to act around omegas. What they like. Romantically. He can do this. He doesn’t have to ask his mom, he doesn’t have to ask James. He can do it on his own. So he’s feeling so shitty about pushing the physical stuff on Harry without an actual relationship first. He can fix that.

Hell, Harry _grinded_ on him tonight. He let Louis do the same to him. They bit each other. Harry's mouth was fucking unreal. It was kind of like mating with clothes on.

It could’ve been a lot more.

With determination, Louis throws back the covers and leaves the bed. He feels a strong need to prove himself. There’s nobody around to prove himself _to_ , but fuck it. His dick and his balls have hurt all night.

As he walks to the bathroom, he knows what he’s thinking about doing is sort of disgusting. He doesn't care. He's gonna do it anyway. He’s gotta have some sort of release or he’s gonna absolutely die from the thoughts that won’t stop assaulting his brain.

Walking directly into the bathroom, Louis locks the door behind him. No worries of Harry waking up and catching him...doing what he's about to do. And what he’s about to do is take a shower in Calvin’s fucking parents’ personal bathroom. A shower with a purpose.

He's officially the biggest asshole on the planet, and he _doesn't care_. And, technically, he does need to get clean. Calvin would want him to at least get the sweat off his skin before sleeping all night in his parents’ bed. In the room that he was specifically told not to enter in the first place.

Turning the tap on as hot as he can stand it, Louis grits his teeth and brings a hand up to feel at his quickly-swelling face. He’d apparently gotten hit more than once, and both his jaw and his cheek on the left side of his face hurt. He wants to pretend the wall is Ashton and punch it again and again, but he doesn’t. Instead, makes the water even hotter. No cold shower for him. He’s here to let everything out. Loosen the tension from his muscles. Empty any remaining stress still lingering around in his body from his rut.

As the room quickly fills with steam, wicked anticipation fills Louis. He hurriedly pulls open the buttons to his jeans, and they fall to his ankles, boxers and socks following. He kicks everything away from his body until it's in a heap on the floor and he's left standing naked in front of the fogging mirror. He doesn't look.

Inside the shower, Louis lets the scalding water rush over his face, already feeling some of the tautness of his muscles loosen. He could've eased the tension before. He could have. If he didn't stop Harry like the dumbass he is, then he _could've._ Alpha. He’s an Alpha. He can act like it. He _will_ act like it.

What if he didn’t stop Harry? What if he weren’t so fucking _noble_ about Harry being drunk and just enjoyed it all like a normal person? All the making out, and the...hips...and the..touching...and the biting...and wherever all of it could’ve taken them.

Louis’ palms flatten against the cool tile in front of him, and he allows his shoulders and face to drop forward, the water washing his hair into his face. His skin is sticky, so he grabs a bar of soap, lathering up as he goes over the events of the evening. He sees Harry sitting on his lap, his hair wild and his lips swollen, his light eyes half-mast. Whispering “you don’t have to control anything” like he’d be fine with Louis bonding them right there. God damn.

Louis’s fully hard again now, but he continues the slow lathering of his torso. God, what if that’s actually what Harry wanted? _Really_ wanted. Not just drunkenly thought he wanted. The bonding...the _mating_. Louis’d get to touch Harry where he’s literally fantasized about on a daily basis for...years, practically. Louis’d get to touch him there and maybe more. He wouldn’t have to control anything. He’d just act on how he felt.

Maybe Harry’d touch him, too. Louis’s soapy hand follows the path he imagines Harry following, down his stomach, past his hip, finally touching himself where he’s been confined and throbbing for most of the night. He pictures Harry right in front of him now--in the shower, too, naked--hey, baby--and Louis would put his hand on top of Harry’s to guide him because Harry would like at him innocently, not knowing what to do. It would take just a few times before Harry would catch the rhythm on his own, though, then Louis could just let go and watch him. Squinting an eye open, he does watch, but it’s his own hand. Just the thought of it being Harry’s instead makes him actually tingle.

After doing this exact thing for hours and hours all week, it’s surprising he still needs it so badly. But he guesses that, rut or not, Harry just has this effect on him. He leans heavily on the one arm that’s supporting him against the tile, and he forces his soapy grip to proceed slowly. He didn’t think he was really drunk, but. He’s drunk.

Picturing Harry looking at his dick like maybe it’s the best thing he’s ever seen, like he’s mesmerized, Louis feels some sappy feeling slam against his chest. It’s the wrong time for it. When the image of Harry drops to his knees, the only thing that Louis’ chest does is swell with pure Alpha pride, and his control slips, eyes closing.

Pulling himself harder and faster, Louis’s only able to focus on the mental image of Harry on his knees, water dripping into his hair, Louis’ dick filling his mouth. Louis bets Harry’s lips would look so pretty curled around him. It’s when he imagines Harry looking up and making eye-contact with him that the convulsions in his body begin, and he chances a peek down at himself to already see his growing knot harden and throb. He reaches down with his free hand to squeeze it.

With his head now the only thing resting against the tiles of the shower, Louis tries to encompass his knot with the palm of one hand while finishing his stroking with his other, and the pleasure just builds and builds and builds until it’s blinding and he can’t stop himself from buckling his knees and grunting out loud, splattering himself all over the shower wall in long spurts of rope.

He keeps his hands where they are until the feeling is over many moments later, and as he opens his eyes and starts to breathe normally, he wants to look down and say thank you. But there’s nobody there.

Feeling drowsy, he cleans off the tile with a few swipes of his hand and then shuts off the water.

Using whatever towel he finds hanging nearby, Louis wipes off his entire body. His head hurts now, and he swipes at the fog on the bathroom mirror to stare at his reflection. His face is really starting to look like shit, but whatever. He could’ve taken both of those guys. Probably still can. But he’s tired now.

In the darkness of the bedroom, Louis curls up behind Harry’s body wearing just his boxers but doesn’t spoon him. He still can’t sleep, instead choosing to just stare at Harry like a creep until his mind completely blanks out. When he does close his eyes, finally reaching out and holding onto Harry’s waist, he thinks his breathing is really just a long, long sigh.

It has to be in the late, late parts of the morning when he and Harry both wake up, but they lay under the covers drifting in-and-out of sleep again until early afternoon. When Louis gets up to pee, he glances at himself in the mirror and notices that his face has gotten worse. His eyes look puffy, and his head hurts like death, but it could be worse.

His mouth is dry and tastes like shit, so he sneaks out of the room quietly, slowly closing the door behind him once he’s in the hall, and when it’s completely shut, a voice speaks.

“You motherfucker.”

Jumping slightly, Louis turns around, closes his eyes, and sighs. “Look--”

“You're washing all the sheets and cleaning up every square inch in there, you dick,” Calvin hisses. “By yourself. I told you not to go in my parents’ room.”

“I’ll clean it,” Louis agrees. “No problem.”

“Everything’s gotta be, like, sanitized now, man--”

“I will, dude, just chill out.”

“I specifically said don’t go in there--”

“I didn’t have anywhere else to sleep, man. I just said I’ll clean it up.”

“You better. It reeks. I can smell it from out here. You complete asshole.”

Louis’ chest grumbles. “It's been a rough night, alright?”

“Yeah, I see," Calvin nods to Louis' face and says. "And I'm sure spending days jerking off in rut then ending the week finally fucking the omega you've been jizzing over for years in my _father’s_ king-size bed is real hard and all, but I've got real shit to deal--”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ll wash the sheets,” he says in frustration.

“You’ll wash the sheets, you’ll scrub the walls, you’ll bleach the fuckin’ room, dude, you’ll do all of it. They’re coming home tomorrow.”

“Stop bein’ so loud,” Louis gropes. “He’s sleeping.”

“So anyway,” Calvin starts as they both begin walking downstairs together, “I was tryin’ to find you. Someone threw up on the side of your car last night.”

Louis stops walking. “You’re kidding.”

After seeing the destruction downstairs and somewhat sympathizing with Calvin’s bad mood, Louis steals a bottle of water from the refrigerator and goes back upstairs, turning down Cal’s offer to smoke. He almost dreads going back in the room with Harry. ‘Cause when he wakes up, they’re gonna have to talk. And Louis doesn’t know what the hell to say when something like this happens. Sorry but not sorry? You were too hot for me to stop earlier? Don’t hate me?

Sneaking back inside as quietly as he can, Louis climbs back in bed and just lays there until Harry finally wakes up. When he does, it’s with a huge groan. He smacks his chapped lips together, and when he speaks, his voice is low and rumbly. “My mouth tastes so bad.”

“Want some water?” Louis asks, holding out his water bottle to Harry.

Harry declines. “I don’t wanna drink anything. Ever. Ever again.”

Louis tries to chuckle. Act normal. “You need to, though.”

“I guess. But I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna go brush my teeth if you want to, too. Might make your mouth taste better.”

As he gets up, Louis cringes. He’d come all over the wall of Calvin’s parent’s bathroom imagining putting a different type of taste inside Harry’s mouth.

In the bathroom, the floor’s wet. Louis finds a bottle of mouthwash on the counter and swishes with it. Behind him, Harry blindly stumbles into the bathroom, and Louis watches in amusement as he squeezes toothpaste out onto his index finger. “What are you doing, weirdo?”

Harry acts nonplussed as he sticks his index finger in his mouth. “Brushing my teeth.” His voice is so deep.

Going through all the drawers, Louis snoops. “Don’t do it that way. Old people always keep cheap toothbrushes for guests,” he mutters. When he finds and opens up two small toothbrushes still wrapped in plastic, he passes one to Harry along the counter. “Here.”

“Old people?” Harry asks, rubbing his eyes with his clean hand.

“Yeah. This is Calvin’s parents’ room.”

Harry gasps. Whatever comment he was preparing to make is stalled when he finally sees Louis’ reflection in the mirror. “Oh, my god, Louis--what _happened_?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your face.”

“Oh. Don’t worry about it.”

“But Louis--”

“I ran into someone’s fist,” Louis mumbles, toothbrush now in his mouth, and Harry turns his body to him.

“Louis,” Harry says in concern. “Who did that to you? What happened?”

“Forget about it,” Louis answers, spitting in the sink. “I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.”

Harry reaches out and gingerly touches Louis’ cheek. “It’s bruised.”

“I’m fine.” Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s and then looks down. “Brush your teeth and come back to the bed.”

Harry doesn’t drop the topic when they’re back under the covers. They’re lazy, both snuggled up in their own little bundle of blankets, staring at each other from opposite ends of the bed. “What did I miss? Who’d you get in a fight with?”

Louis sighs. “Ashton.”

“ _Ashton_?” Harry asks in true shock. “Ashton hates fighting. What happened?”

“It’s a long story.”

Harry looks around. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Louis shrugs. “He was...doing something I didn’t like. So I told him to stop. We kinda got into it after that..”

Harry admonishes Louis by saying his name in a certain way, but Louis knows the expression on his face tells Harry he’s not sorry.

“That’s just so weird.” Harry yawns. “He hates fighting. And I don’t even remember you talking to him last night.”

Louis doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Harry keeps looking at his face in pity. “Didn’t talk to him for long. He was being a dick.”

And that’s all he’s going to say about what happened.

“I guess maybe he’s not the same when he’s drunk,” Harry says softly, and Louis really wishes he’d just stop making excuses for this guy after what he fucking did to him a few months ago. Like, what exactly does Louis have to do?

Louis begins biting on a painful hangnail that's on the side of his pinky. He gets them in the first place from biting his fingernails too much, but whatever. He shrugs at nothing in particular before saying, “He still likes you. Did you know?”

“...What do you mean?”

Louis shrugs again. “Just that he likes you.”

“Well, he’s my--I don’t really care if he likes _me_ ,” Harry mumbles, shrugging too. “I-- I just want you to get along. Since you’re my...best friend, and all. I’m sorry you guys fought. I feel horrible he hit you.”

“I hit him, too, but. It’s whatever,” Louis brushes off, and it’s super quiet after that.

What the fuck. Louis’s Harry’s best _friend._  Harry wants him to get along with his ex. What the fuck for? Louis tries his best not to dwell and fester in the jealousy that’s quickly taking over his body at thoughts of Harry preferring Ashton over him, of Harry, like, wanting him to get along with Ashton because it’s who he wants to mate with. And here’s Louis on the side--just _his_ friend whose opinion he cares about.

After a long time, Harry finally sits up. “I guess I should get up.”

“Yeah, you haven’t seen downstairs yet, have you?”

Harry rubs his eyes. “What’s downstairs?”

“There’s puke in the sink, puke on my car, someone spilled beer on Cal’s laptop. Trash everywhere. The pool’s got clothes in it. It’s a wreck. Calvin’s already smoking a joint to calm himself down. Don’t think he’s gonna have this many people over again ever.”

“I didn’t throw up, did I?”

Louis shakes his head. “No.”

“Good.” Harry collapses back on the bed, pulling the covers over his head and groaning. “I can get up and help clean when my headache goes away.”

“No, don’t. We got it covered.”

“Oh.”

They don’t talk anymore after that, just lay there passing the water bottle back and forth. Eventually, there's a loud knocking on the door that quickly becomes insistently annoying. Louis gets up with a groan and opens it. He’s faced with Harry’s sister, and she looks annoyed. She always freakin’ looks annoyed. “What do--”

“I've been calling you forever,” Gemma looks at Harry and says. “I’m leaving. Are you gonna ride home with me or walk or what?”

“I'll take him,” Louis speaks up. He moves away to grab his jeans from the floor and quickly steps into them. Scanning the floor, he’s confused. “Where’s my fucking shirt?”

“I guess you could take him if you want to risk everyone seeing you arrive together.” As Gemma closes the door, she says over her shoulder, “Thought the whole idea was to have it be secret, but whatever--your choice.”

“What’s her problem?” Harry grumbles. He sits up and leans over the bed to find his pants. “I'll just go with her. I'll see you later, right?”

“Yeah. I’m off today.”

When Harry stands up with his back to Louis, buttoning up his pants, he groans for a long time, and Louis is too busy staring at his tiny underwear to even be concerned with the source of his pain. When Harry turns around, Louis still is speechless. Harry just looks at him and says, “I’m never drinking again.”

 

* * *

 

 

Almost immediately after Harry leaves, it begins to rain. It’s actually sort of a good thing because it washes Louis’ car for him and saves him a trip to the carwash. It also means that he and Cal can open up all the windows in the house to air out the smell of sweat and stale alcohol. All in all, it takes about four or five hours to wash everything and pick up all the shit left over from the party, and Oli puts little finishing touches on everything Cal and Louis overlook so the place looks totally normal again.

“Okay,” Oli says to Louis, walking out of the kitchen and dusting his hands. “Do you mind going in there and smelling it? Do you think it still stinks like beer?”

Louis rubs his eyes. “Get Cal to check. I need to get home. I’m fuckin’ exhausted, man.”

“Yeah, and Harry’s prob’ly wonderin’ where you are.”

Louis gives Oli a curious look. “He knows where I am. I told him I was staying here to finish cleaning.”

“Still, omegas worry--”

“And you’ve been texting him all day,” Calvin walks in the room muttering, “when you were supposed to be cleanin’ my parents’ room.”

Louis rolls his eyes. All Calvin’s done all day is smoke weed and bitch, but Louis hasn’t really said anything. He’s the one who came through with having the party at his own house when Louis couldn’t, so.

“Not all day,” Louis argues. “It’s work. They keep tryin’ to get me to come in.”

“He’s really sweet,” Oli chimes in, ignoring Louis to speak about Harry again. “I like him.”

Calvin guffaws. He’s high. “He stunk up my parents’ room with how sweet he is, that’s for sure.”

“Watch it,” Louis warns. He sassily lifts his eyebrows. “Think you spread your scent around the entire basement last night, so. You don’t have room to talk.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. It’s my house. You fucked on my par--”

“Not listening,” Louis talks over him.

“Anyway, you’re not going anywhere,” Calvin says. “I just ordered a pizza, and we still got the house to ourselves. You know what that means.”

“Video games,” Oli answers dully. “Yay.”

Calvin shakes his head. “Naw, man. There’s soccer on.”

“Because that’s so much better.”

“If you have a problem with it, Oli,” Louis says, chuckling, “you can go back to cleaning.”

“And you can kiss my entire asshole.”

“Gross.”

That evening while doing a whole lot of nothing, Louis, Calvin, and Oli almost finish two entire pizzas while sprawled out on the two couches in Cal’s den. While waiting for the storm to lighten up outside, Louis naps off-and-on as a pretty uneventful soccer game brings noise into the room. Really, he may just be hanging around to stall going back home. He can’t really explain why.

When his phone chimes for the fifth time in a row, he finally decides to look at it, and Calvin smacks his lips. “If that’s Harry, I _swear_ \--”

“Leave him alone, Calvin,” Oli comments from the couch across the room.

“It’s my damn manager,” Louis looks at his phone and says. “He’s been tryin’ to get me to come in all fuckin’ day because some asshole called off.”

“Thought you liked making extra money to save up for your bonding ceremony,” Cal teases.

“Oh, thought that was gonna be you,” Louis responds lazily. “Even though it looked like you were gonna skip the tradition and just do it on impulse downstairs last night.”

Oli’s smile leaves his face, and Louis catches on that he’s said something wrong as he looks between him and Cal.

“Oh, what’s the problem now?” he asks Calvin in annoyance. “It’s always something with you two.”

“Just bullshit.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, man. I don’t know what else I gotta do with him. He’s playing games with me.”

“Well,” Oli starts, “you sort of betrayed his trust in the biggest way an Alpha possibly could--”

“And I said I’m sorry. Omegas like hearing that shit. Then the _flowers_ and the _gifts_ and all that courting shit. Still, he’s still talking to that other Alpha. I know he is. He didn’t even sleep over last night.”

“He’s probably trying to get you back for how much you hurt him,” Oli says, shrugging. “Make you earn it.”

“And I haven’t?” Calvin shrugs. “I dunno, man. This is already killin’ my buzz just bringin’ it up.”

“Here’s a wild idea. T _alk_ to him instead of taping roses to his locker every week and expecting him to wet his pants and turn his neck.”

“I do talk to him. We talk.”

“Not alone, you don’t.”

“When we’re alone, we do other shit.”

“Well, put the making out on hold and talk to the guy, Calvin. It’s not hard.”

“It is hard.” Calvin sniggers and grabs his package. “Very hard when he’s around.”

Oli makes a grossed-out face. “Whatever, Calvin. Don’t ask for my advice if you’re not even gonna listen.”

“You don’t know what it’s like as an Alpha, though. If I don’t knot, like, every two days or, like, say I give it _three_ days even, even, I’ll--”

“And that’s seriously not the point whatso--”

“Stop gettin’ so sensitive. Jesus. Louis knows what I’m talkin’ about.”

Louis’s been trying to zone the whole conversation out, actually, focusing on his own problems ever since Oli told Calvin that omegas like for Alphas to “earn it.”

“What?” Louis asks stupidly.

“If you don’t knot every two days, what happens?”

Louis grunts. “Pain.”

“Exactly,” Calvin says, self-satisfied. “And if Will’s around and willing, then why would I just talk when we could be doin’ other stuff?”

“You’re beyond help,” Oli tells Calvin. “I have no words for you.”

“What the hell, Oli? Give me some advice that’ll actually work. I help you out with Alphas all the time.”

“Yeah, by letting me know who to stay away from.”

“Who’s that?”

“Anyone you associate with.”

Calvin laughs loudly. “Ouch, man. Ouch. See if I ever let you smoke my weed again.”

“You fucking get it from me, you dumbass.”

“Guys, all you do is bitch,” Louis groans. “Just shut up.”

Calvin throws a piece of crust at Louis. “You on your period?”

“See?” Oli speaks up, annoyed. “Stop sayin’ shit like that.”

“Excuse me that I’m a little fucking pent up over here,” Cal retorts. “Unlike Louis here, I didn’t score last night.”

“Nothing happened,” Louis speaks up, shrugging. “We just made out.”

“Yeah, right. I smelled it.”

“Nothing else happened,” Louis repeats, and he sounds serious enough that Calvin believes him.

“Prob’ly ‘cause you were too busy _talking_ to him, I bet.”

“And that’s why Harry sticks around, you asshole,” Oli mutters. “Lou _talks_ to him. Doesn’t treat him like a piece of meat.”

Louis doesn’t know about all that. His friends don’t know about his and Harry’s...arrangement. About how Louis’s only his _best friend_ who he practices kissing with because he’s comfortable doing it with him. About how Louis made up the whole thing in the first place to make Harry want him as a mate. How it’s not working. How Harry clearly prefers someone else.  

Saying that out loud would sound so ridiculous.

“Whenever I look at Louis, he’s _talking_ to Harry,” Oli continues, and Louis wishes they’d just fucking change the topic.

“Louis fucking doesn’t _stop_ talking,” Cal laughs. He pushes at Louis’ shoulder. “What lines you been layin’ on Harry, yo? School me.”

“Calvin, how much did you fucking smoke today?” Louis asks half-serious, eyes still glued to the television like they’ve been forever. It gives him an excuse to not participate in the conversation. He doesn’t like where it’s going.

“Come on,” Calvin eggs on. “Tell me. How’s it that you suddenly have it all worked out with Harry and I can’t even get a blowjob anymore?”

“You don’t know everything you think you know, man,” Louis just says. “It’s complicated.”

Oli helps out, “He’s just more private with his relationship--”

“ _Yeah_ , in my parents’--”

“Drop it,” Louis groans. Picking up a pizza box and the bag of neutralizers he’d re-collected earlier from off the floor, he speaks to the room, “I’m goin home. The rain’s never gonna stop, so. See you two later.”

As Louis walks out the door, he hears Calvin muttering, “And you just get to go home to him, too, man. Lucky-as-shit-bitch.”

Back at his own house in just a few minutes despite the rain making it literally impossible for him to even see while driving, Louis walks to Harry’s room on auto-pilot. The door’s closed, and he hears Harry talking to someone but doesn’t sense anyone else in the room, so he doesn’t knock. He must be on the phone. Outside, Louis stands and waits for him to finish, pulling out his own phone to waste time.

“But why would you do that if you don’t agree with fighting?” Harry asks. Then, “That’s not true.”

Louis scrolls through his own phone, shaking water from his hair. Waiting. Listening.

“Oh. Well, yeah. You’re right…But--....Right, but if you really liked me, would you act like that? You would, right?” It’s silent for a bit and then Harry goes on, “No, me and you. You and anybody. As an example.”

Louis’s stuck with his ear literally to the door until it suddenly opens. Harry’s in the middle of saying something Louis doesn’t catch and then suddenly says, “I gotta go.”

Louis runs his hands through his damp hair, making it all go backwards. When Harry puts his phone in his pocket, Louis smiles awkwardly. “Long time, no see.”

Harry smiles back, looks at his feet, then looks back up. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Just got home.” Louis lifts up the bag in his hand. “Brought you pizza.”

Harry smiles bigger. “Thanks. I was just gonna get something from the kitchen.”

“I’ll go heat it up for you.”

“No,” Harry calls out when Louis walks away. “I like it cold.”

“Ew,” Louis comments. He follows Harry back into his room. With just a small lamp illuminating the room, Louis realizes just how dark it is outside with the storm. Plus it’s late. “What you been doin’ all day?”

Harry hops on the bed and holds up a book. “Reading.”

“Doin’ homework already, huh?”

“Oh, no. This is just for fun.”

“So weird.” Louis shakes his head and sits on the bed, too, smiling. He likes the idea of making the sheets smell more like him. He wants to roll all over the bed, actually. Instead, he lays back and sprawls out his limbs before eventually just crawling up to get beside Harry. Louis’s surprised how comfortable it feels just laying next to Harry in his own bed. Better than being with Calvin and Oli.

It’s dark. Because of the storm, there’s no light coming in from the window beside the bed whatsoever, and the mood quickly turns heavy, like a still and humid night in the middle of summer.

“You look like you’re feelin’ better,” Louis finally comments when Harry’s done eating his pizza.

Harry shrugs. “A little. I’ve been really tired all day but can’t sleep.”

“I hate that.”

“Yeah.”

The two lay side-by-side, and Louis doesn’t know what to say. He just knows he doesn’t want to sleep in his own bed tonight.

“So, uh,” Harry begins out of nowhere, finally breaking the silence. “I wanted to say sorry.”

“Mm?”

“For making things weird last night.”

It’s quiet for a while. “I don’t really think--”

“I only ever…” Harry clears his throat. “I only ever drank one time before. I didn’t mean to be ...I dunno. I’m really sorry. That’s why no one ever invites me to parties, I guess.”

“You always say sorry for things that aren’t your fault. You didn’t do anything.”

“I remember what I did now.” It sounds like Harry is saying something he’s already planned, and Louis isn’t able to get a word in. “And I didn’t mean to...I mean, I don’t know. If you think differently of me, I totally understand. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Harry.” To make him feel better, Louis snuggles Harry close. It’s good. “Everything’s fine with me if it’s fine with you,” Louis whispers, and that’s the best way he can think of to put it. Safe.

Harry looks at him with wide eyes, and for once, Louis doesn’t hesitate when he kisses him.

There isn’t any more talking. Louis isn’t eloquent, and it would only ruin the mood. And with the rain slamming against the house and Harry in his arms, he doesn’t want to use his mouth for anything else, anyway.

* * *

 

A week into his uneventful Spring Break, Harry aches all over. Will said that alcohol will do that to your body, but, literally, for days and days in a row, it’s the worst. Harry’s convinced his heat is about to come. Finally. It’s the only thing that would explain how depressed and moody he’s been feeling. Everything has dragged on, too, only made worse by the fact that Harry is the world’s most pathetic person who hasn’t done anything whatsoever during his entire spring break but homework.

Being stuck in the house only makes it worse. Watching people go in and out all day. Living their lives.

James is a doctor, and Jay is a midwife, so Harry doesn’t question their hours since they’re so random. His own mom works two jobs now--one in an office and one in retail, so she’s gone a lot, too. Jacob sees clients all day long. Gemma works as a waitress, and her shifts are all over the place. Louis just got a promotion to a different department at the retail store he works at, and he’s been gone more than he’s home the entire break. And though Austin’s not employed anywhere, he always takes Louis’ sisters and his nephew Connor to different activities. They’re _always_ doing stuff--sports stuff, plays for school, dance recitals, play dates, anything.

Harry is literally the only loser in the house who doesn’t have any extra-curricular activities he’s involved in. No one’s even called him to hang out because all his friends are out of town.

On the evening of Easter Sunday, Harry returns to Louis’ house after a tense two days at his dad’s new apartment. His dad is already seeing someone new. A Beta from his office. The meal was awkward since she was there, and Gemma made it worse by showing up late and ignoring all the questions she had asked her. Harry tried being polite, but really he’s just sad. He’s hopeless and tired about the whole situation that is his family.

Harry’s made even more unhappy to discover that Louis’s at work when he gets home. As if it matters, though. Even if he wasn’t at work, even if Harry snuck into his bedroom, Louis would probably just say he smells like heat, anyway, and try to talk him out of sleeping together. But Harry could probably talk him into it. He’s gotten better at that.

Harry literally can’t stop thinking about what happened at the party. And more. It’s a fixation he can’t shake. He’s already talked everything through with Ashton. Because of his fight with Louis that Ashton won’t discuss, he doesn’t really want to talk about Louis anymore, but Harry bothers him with it anyway. _“You know how much this means to me,”_ Harry had wheedled until he finally got Ashton to say that even though Louis’s acting strange for an Alpha, it’s still obvious he likes Harry. Harry had a million things to say to that, but whatever signs Louis was giving off made Ashton firm that that Louis likes him. Like, Alpha/omega likes him. Harry knows that there’s no way Ashton can really know how complicated everything really is, but. At least he’s an Alpha he can trust with this stuff.

So...coming from another Alpha, Harry feels a little better that this whole plan is working. It’s just taking time. And Harry’s cool with that, he guesses, even though every time he’s around Louis he feels an urgent need to...mate.

It just sucks that he’s so painfully lonely when Louis isn’t around.

Harry won’t say it out loud, but part of him wants to believe that his body has just been reacting like this because he’s been separated from Louis for over a day. He knows he’s lonely without Louis, but to the extent that it actually hurts his body…it’s strange. He’s never heard omegas mention anything like it before, so he doesn’t know what to think. He just knows his aches got so bad last night that he had to take actual medicine and lay down to get relief.

When he walks into the kitchen, his mom and Jay are already in there, and though his mom can already read his mood from his face, she still asks how the holiday went. Harry doesn’t have much to say. He certainly won’t mention the new Beta his dad is dating. His mother smiles softly, gives him a hug, and puts blankets on the big sectional sofa in the living room so Harry can lay down and watch television since there isn’t one in his room. Every now and then, she brings him medicine and ice cream and cold drinks from the kitchen, and Harry feels somewhat better at the feeling of being taken care of.

Even though he’s sleepy and it’s late, Harry can’t sleep. He can’t really watch the television, either, because his mom and Jay are disrupting him from the next room over. They’re being louder than they must think they’re being, and as Harry hones in on what they’re talking about, he can tell that his mom is upset. And it’s about his dad.

Harry sighs. He hates when his mom is upset. He didn’t mean to, like, push his mood on her or something.

He can’t help it, though. Everything makes him so sad. But it’s not like things would be better if his parents got back together or anything. They were never really happy together. He can tell that know by seeing how relaxed his dad being with someone else. Still, he wishes they lived in some different universe where they were still bonded. Where everyone was together as a big family.

When his eyes start to water, Harry curls in on himself. He ignores the random spurts of pain that tear at his lower abdomen, imminently signaling that, yes, his heat actually is coming and it’s not just him being emotional. It’s only around his heat that his senses are quite this sharp. His hearing and his ability to pick up on others’ moods. His teariness.

“I certainly didn’t do anything to help matters,” he hears his mom say sadly. He turns the television down a few notches since he can’t pay attention to it anyway. “Letting my relationship fail and having nowhere to go.”

“Oh, Anne,” Jay says just as quietly, with just as much emotion. “Sometimes people just fall out of love.”

“I just always wanted Gemma and Harry to see a stable bond, you know? There are so many couples these days who break their bonds for such silly reasons, and I wanted to show them that coupling isn’t something that you should do without really thinking about it. That it’s something you commit to, even through the hard times. I really wanted us to work out.”

Harry hears a sniff and then Jay’s voice. “Your kids are the sweetest, most well-behaved, smartest, most beautiful people I can imagine, Anne. You’ve done excellently raising them.”

Harry smiles. Well, that was a really nice thing to hear, even though he feels horrible to be honest and just wants to get up from the couch to give his mom a hug. Suddenly, he hears his mom say his and Louis’ name in the same sentence, and he actually does sit up, clutching his stomach as he does.

“Don’t I know it. I’ve never seen anything quite so intense before between high-schoolers, bonded or not.”

“We knew it’d be this way, though, didn’t we? We used to look at them and be so tickled, remember? It’s just--now that they’re grown now, it’s...real. The way they look at each other...”

“That’s why I’m worried. If Louis marks _Harry_...I just don’t see how they could manage to live apart. We’ll never get out of your hair then.” Harry can tell his mom is trying to joke, but she’s still sad, and he’s confused.

“You know that’s not even an issue. Stay as long as you need to.”

“But with the boys,” Anne argues, “it makes it so more urgent, you know? I just feel like at any minute I could become a grandmother.”

Harry drops his mouth.

“Do you think Harry knows the significance of all this? Do you think Louis’s told him?”

“I honestly don’t know. And I know his father never would have.” She sighs. “I’m just afraid, Jay. I was so young when I got pregnant, and I’ve...truthfully, I’ve never been able to get ahead my entire life. And I’m not saying I regret it, because they’re the light of my life, but--I just don’t want Harry or Louis to have to make the same sacrifices so young.”

“Having a baby as a teenager definitely is hard. If we didn’t have the inheritance, I would’ve...I don’t even know where I’d be now.”

“I feel so foolish not talking about this with him before. He’s just so bright, I figured that he already knew. Maybe he does, I don’t know.”

“No, no, I’ve always avoided mentioning it flat-out to Lou, either. I was afraid he’d get ideas, and at the time I wasn’t trying to make anything worse with D--Harry’s father. I’ve always thought Louis would ask me about it because after time went on he had to’ve realized it wasn’t just an ordinary injury, but when he never did, I gave him a book on all of it. You know those health books in school don’t really speak to teenagers in their own language.”

Harry struggles to follow. His yearning for Louis must be pretty obvious to everyone in the house by now--they’re probably amused by it at this point, Harry realizes--but his mom _knows_ he knows how omegas get pregnant. Apparently she must not think he’s so bright after all.

“I guess I’m afraid, too. I’m afraid he’s going to want all that stuff and just be taken over by it. Which is completely fine, but like you said. Maybe not so soon.”

“We’ve been causing so many problems, haven’t we,” Anne mutters.

“Anne, it’s not your fault. We knew all along this was coming, right? It’ll be fine.” She sighs. “If there’s any problem at all, it’s just that their cycles…”

“Are starting to match up to each other,” Anne finishes, sighing. “I’ve noticed.”

“It’ll only get stronger,” Jay adds. “Eventually, they’ll be completely in sync, and there’ll be no other choice but to lock them up when it happens unless you want to risk the inevitable. It’s just...I’m afraid separating them for too long will be torture for them both. And my house.”

“Would you like us to get a hotel? All of this just seems like it’s causing too much trouble.”

“No, of course, not,” Jay answers, and Harry’s relieved to hear that she sounds stunned. “I’ve told you, stay as long as you need to. We’ll make it work. If we have to lock them up, we have to lock them up. Give them each items that smell like the other one, and they’ll make it through. Louis’s only ever broke one window, and the walls are easy to plaster over.”

Harry scowls. He’s very...mad, he supposes, that the conversation has gone in the direction it has. He doesn’t like people talking about him and Louis like this. Their...cycles. He _hopes_ he and Louis will be mates one day--at least if this whole thing does work out--but for the adults to worry and doubt that he’s going to come home one day _pregnant_ … All it does is remind him of his father. He knows he’s young, but he’s not stupid.

“Is there any other way?”

“Louis already takes deintensifiers. When he remembers, at least. They have to be taken at the first signs of rut, and he never remembers to take them on his own. And I’m afraid they don’t work very well, anyway--he says they make him feel really sluggish and weird--and they really only combat the angry side-effects of ruts as it is.” She carefully suggests, “Omega suppresants are always an option.”

“Harry won’t take them. I’ve talked to him about it before because he just seems to suffer so much through his heats. But no. He’ll never agree.”

“Regular birth control then?” Jay suggests. “It won’t suppress the heat, but it could still be beneficial. Especially because...well, they’re teenagers.”

“Would that be safe for him to take?”

“Safer than suppressants. They affect everyone a little differently, but they’re supposed to change hormone levels to lengthen the regular heat cycle.”

“So. Fewer heats.”

Jay nods. “Fewer heats, but more importantly, if he takes them like he should, predictable heats eventually. Down to the day. They won’t be a result of proximity to other Alphas--Louis--anymore. Plus, pregnancy prevention, so...”

“Okay,” Anne sighs. “Okay. I’ll schedule an appointment then.”

“If they made them for Alphas, you know I’d get Louis to take them, too.”

“I don’t think Harry would mind. Once I talk to him about it.”

Harry’s had enough, and he storms out of the room, dragging the sheet on the sofa behind him like a child. He doesn’t like that his mom has decided to just freaking put him on birth control without even asking him. Nevermind the fact that it’ll finally relieve him of the heats he suffers through all the freaking time--his mom has made decisions about his body without even asking him. It sucks. All because they can sense that he’s had a crush on Louis his whole life and are afraid he’ll make the same decisions that they did when they were his age.

Well. He can’t really blame them. He just hopes they don’t know anything else.

All night long, his body itches and sweats as his heat sadistically creeps up on him instead of hitting him all at once, and he gets absolutely zero sleep thinking about his mother’s conversation on a loop in his head. The next morning, when the tell-tale tingle of arousal finally starts running through his veins and he starts dripping into his own underwear, he starts crying for no reason before finally walking up to Louis’ room to wake him. He needs Louis to help him.

He isn’t even halfway up the stairs when Jacob sniffs him out and shuffles him back to his own room, speaking quietly into his ear on the way. Instead of listening, Harry falls to his knees and lashes out against Jacob.

“Come on, now, let’s get you back to your own room--”

“But you don’t understand--you don't--understand!”

If Harry weren’t in such agony, he’d be amazed at the level of calm Jacob’s keeping. “I do. Very well.”

Harry’s shoulders start shaking. Upstairs, a door opens, and Jacob drags Harry a little more urgently to his bedroom. Over his shoulder, he tells someone, “Get him.”

Harry can’t really focus on much after that, just the feeling of his scratchy sheets under him and Jacob’s calm voice speaking from somewhere far away.

“I’m here, Harry. It’s okay. Your mom won’t be home from work for a while, but you’re safe. It’s okay.”

Harry’s insides convulse and quiver, and he winces. He knows he’s gonna have to kick Jacob out soon. He needs to take off his clothes and rub against something. All night long he thought he was in agony, but now it’s real. “No, I’m--fine. I’ll be fine.” Then, the next second, he’s crying, writhing on the bed. “I hate this. I hate this so much.”

“It won’t last forever. You’ll be okay, all right? Hang on a sec. I’ll be right back.”

When Jacob re-enters the room, his arms are full of various items. After he plugs in a box-fan in one corner of the room, he plugs in a sound-machine in the other. When the room is full of the sound of very loud white-noise and the whirling of the fan, Jacob places a shoebox on the mattress.

“I don’t want to make this weird, but you can look in here if you want to. I’m leaving now, and I have the key to the door.” He holds up a long skeleton key like it’s the nineteenth century. “I'll give it to your mom when she’s home from work. You won’t be able to leave the room yourself, but you have your phone if you need to use it. You need anything else right now, do you think?”

“I’m fine,” Harry grits his teeth and says. There are beads of sweat covering his entire brow now. “Can you leave?”

Jacob wordlessly gets up and exits, and the second that he closes the door, Harry throws all of his clothes off. When he’s naked, he immediately carries the box Jacob left on the bed to the area in front of the fan, sits there with the breeze cooling him off, and opens it. There’re three bottles of water (one of which he gulps down straightaway), a really soft washcloth, about twenty condoms (which he just tosses away because what was Jacob thinking?) and two cucumbers. Harry doesn’t flinch as he climbs back onto his bed with one of the vegetables in his hand. He’s not even mortified. He uses it. He’s never stuck anything inside him before, but for some reason, now it’s the only way.

The items inside the box smell like Louis for some reason, making Harry constantly whine, and he doesn’t realize that at some point he’s been trying to escape the room’s confines until his mother enters with some special type of tea for him to drink, telling him to please try to calm down and stop rattling the door. He’s almost able to sprint around her to exit.

Everything drags on and on and on until Harry can’t tell the time or the day anymore, only the buzzing of his body when it’s time again, then the relentless urge to move when the buzzes fill him up, then the short and sticky resting period that gives him no real rest, only time to dry the tears from his face and rehydrate with water.

He’s not well until Thursday and isn’t able to go to school until Friday, but he still doesn't.

* * *

 

When his bleeding is finally over and Harry’s finally prescribed birth control, it sucks. As if the appointment itself wasn’t weird enough (Harry was just expecting a regular doctor’s appointment, not a full examination where he had to get completely undressed), the medicine he now has to take is giant and leaves a bad taste in his mouth. During the first week, he puts off taking it until right before bed, afraid that everyone in the house will be able to smell it on him. They probably can. Everyone at school probably can, too. He’s so ready for it to be over.

Standing in the kitchen with a giant white pill stuck in his esophagus, Harry’s chest begins to hurt the way it does when he eats hot dogs without drinking enough water afterwards. His face becomes red and twisted up from the discomfort and burn of his new medicine trying to make its way down his throat, so he quickly drinks more water to try to help his situation. For some reason, he can’t seem to swallow properly, and all the water in his mouth sputters out before he starts coughing, choking. Putting his hands on the counter, he lowers his head while barking out long, unattractive hacks. The doctor had to go and prescribe him the biggest pill in creation. It _sucks_.

Louis walks into the room just then wearing khakis and a red polo shirt, looking tired but happy to see Harry. Unpinning his name badge from his shirt, he must finally notice Harry’s maroon face because he instantly approaches him. “Hey, you alright?”

Harry puts a finger up and tries to turn his face away from Louis again while still coughing. Dear God, how humiliating. Not the way to win a mate.

“Whoa, you need me to do the Heimlich?”

Harry shakes his head and puts the glass of water to his lips again once he knows he’ll be able to do so and not die. Within a few moments, he feels the pill dislodge a bit and easily slide down into his stomach. He can breathe again. It hurts, but he now can breathe.

Louis smiles in amusement once Harry’s face returns to normal color. “You alright?”

Harry can't help but laugh, still coughing a bit and hitting his chest with a clenched fist. “Yeah, fine. Leave it to me to almost die while swallowing.”

Louis’ eyebrows raise in a funny way and he smirks, but it quickly morphs when he actually notices the bottle on the counter in front of Harry. He picks it up and narrows his eyes as he reads the words in front of him: Thermocess Daily Oral Contraceptive. It's a formal prescription with Harry’s name clearly on the sticker. He knows Harry would’ve had to have gone to a doctor for this. He looks at Louis with wide eyes.

“Birth control,” Louis mutters, then looks up. “What d’you have birth control for?”

Harry snatches the container out of Louis’ hand. He should’ve remembered to hide it. Or take it privately, in a bedroom or a bathroom like a normal, smart person would do. But apparently he’s not smart at all.

Louis looks at him with his mouth in a straight line for some reason. “Harry, what are you taking this for?”

_‘Cause our parents know what we’ve been doing and they don’t trust us to make good choices even though it’s not something that you ever, in a million years, would dream of doing with me._

Harry begins walking away as his face reddens again. “Nothing! It's not a big deal.”

“Yeah, okay,” Louis mutters after him.

 

* * *

 

Hey, guys--

 

So. Lots of questions about A/B/O-related anatomy and biology stuff. I’ll wordily address most of it here along with tons of stuff no one asked. One of the reasons I’ve either not explained or left out some information about these following topics is because some of the things get brought up naturally along the telling of the story. Another reason is that I’ve figured most people have this trope generalized in their head enough for my writing to sort of make sense without detailing all the boring science-y stuff in a way that seems natural instead of cold or foreign in the fic. I know that I do have unique things pop up that I don’t really see other writers address, however, so here goes.

The genders/rankings/categories are of course as follows: Alpha, Beta, or omega,  with the sexes being male or female. As for relationships and attraction, any gender and any sex can be together if it’s what they want. (Male omega/female Alpha, male beta/male beta, female omega/female Alpha, whatever.) I'll get into that later.

Just how most people can tell males and females apart by sight, people can normally tell each ranking apart by sight, as well. Sometimes their notions are incorrect due to stereotyping, however, so smell is the truest form of indication in this universe. You would rarely/never find people asking each other “what they are” because everyone learns how to distinguish the categories from a young age. The reason for this is because the A/B/O universe is a hormone-driven, pheromone-driven world.

The main difference between the two chemical signals are that hormones occur inside the body, potentially affecting one’s own behavior. Pheromones occur outside of the body, potentially altering the behavior of others. Different hormone levels impact the feelings and behavior of the person who’s experiencing them. Hormones also signal things to occur inside the body like actual puberty, menstruation, heat, rut and other biological occurrences.

Alphas will have more testosterone and epinephrine in general, regardless of if they’re female or male, so these hormones impact aggression, competitiveness, anger, protectiveness, excitement, etc. Omegas will have little testosterone but rather a large amount of estrogen, progestogen, and oxytocin that regulates cycles and outwardly affects behaviors and emotions like sensitivity/emotionality/moodiness, clinginess, fear, concern...things like that. Betas experience a basically-balanced level of hormones that do not impact their behavior in very drastic ways. Males and females will still have some sort of dormant cycle that can awaken around mates in order to reproduce but otherwise is not all-encompassing like it is with Alphas and omegas.

So pheromones, on the other hand, are released by the body and can affect others to behave certain ways. Physically seeing certain things of course affects others to behave/feel certain ways, as well, but the actual physiological smell is more powerful. Pheromones don’t affect Betas very much--no more than just an average human--but they have a huge impact on Alphas and omegas. Seeing someone cry might make an omega concerned, for instance, but smelling the tears might make them sad themselves. For Alphas and omegas in heat or rut, pheromones play the biggest part. As these are the most animalistic times for each of them to experience, their bodies send out tons of signals that they want to mate, and potential mates react to these signals. Omegas turn their necks and can’t help but produce slick at the dominating presence of Alphas in rut (or they could also be afraid, too, even at the same time), and Alphas will drool, drop their teeth to bond, and get so aroused they can’t function without release. They’re overtaken by the urge to scent-mark, so they get closer to omegas than they would at other times. Depending on their politeness or lack thereof, they can be overbearing with these drives, or they can unhappily keep themselves away from omegas due to socially-ingrained laws and customs that teach them they're monsters from a young age. Scent-neutralizers are very common in many public places such as businesses, schools, and most homes to also act as a deterrent for uncontrollable behaviors.

Even prior to puberty, the body releases certain scents that give off hints to others about “what” they are, helping even young children tell the difference between everyone. This has societal impacts on how each person is treated as they're brought up based on the existing social hierarchy of the genders.

Alphas obviously are the top dogs, with males being more dominant than females in any given ranking. This probably comes from an outdated school of thought that correlated social status/ranking with physical (genital) size. Females are easily breaking that stereotype in modern times. In general, both females and males are taller, more muscular, and cocky in their abilities. They are the most privileged and often don’t have to work very hard at what they’re given, even though many of them of course do. They're feared, respected, and envied. They have the ability to use a certain tone in their voice to intimidate others or get their point across, and generally it makes a room very solemn when this happens because there’s almost always anger or an imminent threat for this to happen in the first place.

Betas rank higher than omegas for the sole fact that omegas are seen as weak. Betas are normally judged as dependable, friendly, hard-working, but most often simply boring. Betas are generally medium sized with no outwardly-unique identifiers for females or males.

Omegas. Omegas omegas omegas. They are the smaller ones, the delicate ones, the submissive ones, the ones who have to endure the most emotionally and therefore are the most socially intelligent.

Omega females will be similar to the female ideology most people already have in their minds except for the fact that they’re the most submissive of any ranking. Omega males are generally smaller or less muscular than beta/Alphas, sometimes skinnier, but not necessarily so. They’re nice and mostly shy. They crave harmony and family. Omegas sit when they urinate regardless of sex. It's less of a biology thing and more of a submission thing.

Omegas get ridiculed the most (even more than Betas, surprisingly, which is weird because society has deemed betas the most unimportant). Society hasn’t caught up with the true value of omegas yet. They have the ability to get pregnant, but so can basically anybody else if the conditions are right, but omegas are still seen as the ones who are physically “less-than.” Their heats are interpreted as weakness but are simultaneously the very reason other Alphas lust after them. Their lowered physical strength is translated into further weakness, yet Alphas and Betas don’t realize the constant empty, heartbreaking yearning of heats or the throbbing sharp pain of periods that really makes omegas strong for having to deal with it so often.

It just naturally happens that some group has got to be the lowest on the totem pole in life, and omegas are unfortunately those people. Omegas are bullied, they’re made fun of, and they’re not taken seriously.

Omegas used to be marginalized and in some cases even persecuted. This was long ago, though, and as society has progressed, it’s not widely uncommon to have omegas hold positions even above Alphas in the workforce. They’re still often made fun of behind their backs for it, unfortunately, but the stereotype of omegas only staying home and doing chores and raising children is quickly dwindling. Younger generations especially are changing this. So there’s hope!

In this universe, omegas are mouthier than others I’ve read. They get away with more despite their submissive nature. Some could say this is because they’re sassier as the babies of all the genders or they just have a desire to rebel, but as the writer, I say it’s because I feel the universe would just naturally evolve this way over time. Omegas, not having rights for so long, will eventually speak up for their rights once other life-variables change, birth control being a huge factor in this.

For instance, without the ability to control pregnancy, many omegas would have no other option but to end up in a life of never-ending child-rearing. Being pregnant, nursing, and raising newborns again and again and again leaves hardly any time for academic or vocational growth because it’s so demanding. [Anne did get a job after Harry and Gemma went to school during the day, but imagine if she had no control over future pregnancies. With each heat she had, there would be a good chance of her getting pregnant again, even bonded to a Beta. In generations prior, this is exactly what happened to other omegas with little or no access to safe contraceptives. That’s why families were larger in the past. (Then you have people like Jay, of course, who has many kids with her partner/s by choice. She feels an absence of sorts in her own heart from her parents not being around when she was younger, so she makes up for it by providing a loving home for many, many children that financially she can care for.)]

Omegas going to school longer, putting off mating, and putting off family mainly means a more educated group of individuals who aren’t afraid to really speak up like they were in the past.

All of this sounds familiar when compared to real life. So that’s how I made it in the story.

I’ll go into biology now. As I mentioned, the sexes are just male or female. Males will have penises, and females will have vulvas/vaginas. Females will have breasts. Males will lactate when necessary but only for nursing. There's not much there when this happens. Depending on the person's category, these biological characteristics will vary in size.

As for males, Alphas have the largest penises, and after puberty, they knot just about every time they ejaculate unless they're sick or something. Betas penises range from small to large but typically are just average. Omegas will be smaller but not freakishly so. Male omegas still have the potential to get erect and ejaculate, just not to a substantial extent/amount since it’s not for reproduction. Their main source of satisfaction is from the anus. Female omegas can enjoy both. Regarding the size of vulvas, the same rules apply for each category--omegas have small ones, Betas average, and Alphas largest.

Everybody, Alpha/Beta/omega, has some sort of hormonal cycle, even if it's dormant like with Betas. The purpose of cycles is for conception to occur--for the body to get pregnant or to impregnate.

For Alphas, the cycle begins around eleven or twelve and ends with a rut. Most people think the cycle starts with the rut because it's the thing that's outwardly noticeable, but it's actually the end. After a rut, the cycle starts back up again. The beginning is where an Alpha will feel the most normal. Hormones balanced. Then things start to build, they get more competitive with other Alphas, they feel obsessed with success (whatever it is to them, like working out to make them stronger, or making money, or things like that). It ends with the need to have their strength and power validated by others--usually and preferably a potential mate, so finding a mate or actually physically mating is important at this time. Alphas are so built up at the very, very end of their cycle (their actual rut) that they obsessively spend a few days constantly masturbating or having sex. The urge is all-consuming and uncontrollable. As they get older, the drive to have sex is stronger than just simply masturbating because they actually want to reproduce, to knot inside a body and not their hand. The semen from Alphas is extremely strong and a more is expelled during ejaculation than with other males.

Betas have a dormant cycle in which they can conceive or impregnate “when the time is right” by being around a mate long enough and having their own chemical makeup adjust. Generally, they have no huge issues impregnating others (even though their sperm isn't as strong or numerous as Alphas), but getting pregnant is more difficult based on the fact that there's no one real good time for it to happen consistently.

Omegas are able to get pregnant at any time of their cycle because their bodies are built for semen to survive for longer periods of time inside them. Their body would actually use this semen for conception at heat, however. Their cycles, like Alphas’ cycles, don't start with a heat but actually end with it. Things will get rolling at around nine, ten, or eleven, which, when you think about it is super young and can be scary and confusing.

Heats occur to increase the probability of conception by releasing pheromones to attract mates. Since Betas aren't hugely affected by pheromones and since omegas in heat really don't affect other omegas very intensely either (it’s more sympathetic), heats are most important to attract Alphas.

If conception does not occur during this time, then, exactly like in real life, I don’t see how there wouldn’t be some sort of phase that happens afterwards in a cyclical pattern. As humans, the phases are menstrual, follicular, ovulatory, and luteal, and each phase lasts about a week for most complete cycles to take about 28 days. If pregnancy doesn’t occur in the ovulation phase (which I relate the most to heat), then the cycle just goes around and around again exactly the same month after month. At least for healthy individuals. I think for omegas, this cyclical pattern of phases would be very similar, but I’ve made the cycle times longer/unpredictable. In my head I have 45 days as a good number, but because of pheromones and other factors, it’s never exact in this world.

So like I said, omegas’ phases are similar to what we already know in that there has to be some type of preparation of the body for the pregnancy (follicular, if you will, in which the body’s just getting everything ready), the time when the body can actually get pregnant (ovulation/heat), and then some type of signal that pregnancy didn’t happen (menstrual). While in the equivalent of the follicular phase, omegas generally feel bloated, hot, emotional, and clingy. Their heats are anywhere from a few days to a week, ranging in their strength from heightened vulnerability and horniness to extreme arousal and desperation to conceive and mate. Some of the variables for this range would be the bond status of the omega, the age of the omega, and the proximity of other Alphas to the omega.

Heats can be a dangerous, fearful time for certain omegas. They can also a very confusing occurrence for younger omegas whose bodies are preparing for mating but whose minds are nowhere near the maturity of what penetration and mating exactly entails. Like Harry, some younger omegas don’t know what to do to make the feelings during heat go away and revert to rubbing their genitals against nearby items, sometimes even in school until they learn that it’s taboo. For mature or mated omegas, heats are much more enjoyable because they know they'll be taken care of during them (or at least be able to make themselves feel pleasurable and not suffer).

Self-lubrication for omegas begins once the heat cycle officially starts and can then occur randomly and spontaneously throughout any time of the day.

As for the fact that Betas and Alphas have the potential to get pregnant, too…

I base a lot of A/B/O things in my mind off of wolves, as strange as that sounds. This is an animalistic universe, however, and though everyone clearly is human, the traits can be compared somewhat to animals who have become somewhat domesticated. Not feral or wild, but animalistic. For instance, in real life, if necessary, males (even humans) can lactate supposedly. It’s a thing. This is possible because mammary glands exist in males though they are “dormant”. I don't think it's a stretch to make a universe in which other organs can exist for pregnancy in males/Alphas/Betas, as well, even if they aren't always used because, again, hormones drive them. Also, with wolves, Alphas will mainly mate with other Alphas only, and there’s a steady switch of dominance between the male and female depending on what’s going on. So I don't know. It's weird but that's how I've made the story.

For who's getting whom pregnant, I believe it all deals with which genders are actually mating and who’s the receptive partner in each situation. For true mates, it's possible for the hormones of the receptive person to switch up in a reactive way around their mate, making pregnancy a possibility. For Alphas, Betas, and omegas, determining who’s receptive depends on the biology of the partner. Generally speaking, it’s easy when an Alpha or Beta is paired with an omega because the omega will always be receptive, regardless of sex. If an omega is with another omega, there is no true receptive partner. There can be penetration when a male is involved, but this is still the only pairing in which a pregnancy isn’t a possibility because even male omegas don't ejaculate sperm in the little bit of semen that comes out at orgasm. This is a shunned relationship for this very reason (can't reproduce). I’ve written some stuff about this (sort of) in future chapters, and I also touched on it when Zayn/Harry were ridiculed in middle school when people speculated that they were dating. Because it's taboo, it's also fetishized.

While it’s acceptable for Alphas to be with other Alphas, it rarely happens. Love is love is love, though, so if it does happen, someone has to give up their true dominance for the relationship to work. This is always the female if there is one, but during certain times such as right after a baby is born, for instance, the male or true Alpha can be less dominant.

Female Alphas/Betas can impregnate, and I’ve been asked how that’s possible. All I can say is that it becomes possible if they’re the dominant partner. Use your imagination. Some fics I’ve read have had the clitoris elongate, but I don’t get into any of that. I would say their genitals are larger because they are Alpha and this helps them out.

Here are the combination possibilities for pairings:

 

Alpha/Alpha

Alpha/Beta

Alpha/omega

Beta/Beta

Beta/omega

omega/omega

 

Alpha/Alpha: This is sort of looked upon weirdly but isn't really condemned. Alphas hook up with other Alphas rarely, though. They do it to maximize their power, but most Alphas don't do this because they don't like to be challenged. If there is a female in the pairing, she’d be receptive. If it's two males or two females together, the receptive one could be either of them, or they could switch and have fun with it. Pregnancy is a very, very small probability due to their cycles existing for the opposite to happen, but if they're not careful, it's possible based on their bodies’ hormones reacting to each other. They'd still have to use lube.

Alpha/Beta: The Beta is receptive. Alphas who go for Betas either have low hormone levels, they’re tired of dealing with drama, or they could simply just be in love with the Beta. The reason I say this is because most Alphas will prefer omegas.

Alpha/omega: The most common pairing you'll find because their bodies respond so well to the other’s. And the one I love the most.

Beta/Beta: If someone’s a Beta, they’re generally going to find another Beta to mate. Growing up without the trouble of being influenced by hormones will make a person used to staying that way, and they like the hassle-free life of not having to worry about calling off work for their partner’s heats, etc.

Beta/omega: The omega would be the submissive receptive partner regardless of their sex. Betas secretly think omegas are weird, but some of them lust after them. For this pairing to work, the Beta would have to be very understanding. Alphas give omegas more than Betas ever can, and secretly both Betas and omegas know this, but omegas could have had bad past experiences with Alphas that have led them to stay away, etc., or the Beta could be experiencing some type of phase in which they wish they were an Alpha---who knows.

omega/omega: taboo, similar to the word “homosexual” in our society, can’t naturally have children together, but are very fertile otherwise. Omegas aren't legally able to bond with other omegas. Omegas pairing with other omegas generally pretend they're just friends in public, and it can be very scary around Alphas. Because Alphas don't understand the validity of this relationship, they think omegas dating other omegas is really just a way to be coquettish and try to turn Alphas on. The reason they think this is because some omegas actually do act like this for this reason. Doesn’t mean all omegas attracted to other omegas aren’t genuinely attracted to them as a mate, though. It’s hard for omegas to protect themselves when they’re mated to another omega.

“Mating” happens when an Alpha knots inside another body, achieving conception or not. It can just mean having sex, too, if an Alpha isn't involved. Sometimes people in this universe mix up the words “mating” and “bonding,” and it can be confusing. Kind of like the phrase “hooking up” is in real life--what exactly is it?! How far did things go? When people say “mates,” though, it generally means that two people are together on a pretty serious basis, but the implication that they’ve bonded is there. Otherwise people would just call each other boyfriend/girlfriend.

“Bonding” happens through biting, and because of possessiveness, you'll often find this mark on the neck so it’s more obvious to others. Can be anywhere, though. There's a type of chemical released upon biting that enters the bloodstream of the other person, putting a bit of themselves in the other, tying them together. Any category can bond, actually, but Alphas are the ones whose teeth will actually physically grow for this purpose (because of hormones). It’s harder for others to do it, but they can.

Some people wait until a formal bonding ceremony to bond in front of family/loved ones (uncomfortable in modern days because people aren't keen to watch others so intimately, but it's old-fashioned), some bond then formalize it with a ceremony exchanging rings, or some have a ceremony then actually bond afterwards (alone, the night of). Still others never have a ceremony and never wear rings. A ceremony is more of a legal or religious event at heart but of course is based ultimately on love.

Some unfortunately bond by mistake, usually in rut or heat. Or they choose after a period of time that they have changed their mind about their partner (this used to be rare but is growing more common.) To reverse/break a bond is a timely and painful process. As easy as it is to bite and combine a biological part of oneself with another, it's hard to remove or separate that piece once it's in there. There are also legal processes in place to un-do a bond if it was formalized with a ceremony.

Okay, so. If I forgot anything or if there are holes/confusion with this, let me know. I sounded like a complete freaking weirdo writing this with such precise and scientific terms, but I hope it helps and gives you a glimpse of what goes on in my mind.


	18. let's make a move

**End of May**

On the last day of school after the last class of his _next_ -to-last year of high school, Louis walks down the stairs to exit the building just like any other day. Stan’s behind him singing “School’s Out for Summer” and banging along to the beat on the tops of his legs. Calvin’s beside him with his hands in his pockets looking like the epitome of cool when really Louis knows he’s trying to act like he isn’t affected by the sight of Will walking outside with that female Alpha he’s been talking to, and Oli’s next to the others meekly trying his hardest to blend in with them. The rest of the student body is running around them, throwing papers into the air.

Outside, as he starts walking to the student parking lot, Louis meets Harry’s eyes among the giant horde of people congregating in front of the buses. Harry silently speaks to him. He’ll be right there as soon as he can, but he’s surrounded by people who want to talk to him. Louis nods.

He eventually separates from his friends, knowing he’ll see them again in probably just a few days, and while he leans on the side of his car, Louis watches Harry hug his friends and wave to others back at the entrance to the school. He stands around animatedly chatting with tons of people--signing yearbooks and taking pictures and doing cute shit like that--so Louis puts on his aviators to hide the permanent crinkling of his eyes as he creepily watches it all with fondness. Harry practically has a line of people waiting to talk to him.

When the last of the underclassmen finally load themselves on the buses and are carted away with their oily faces screaming out of the open windows, the noisy excitement from outside of the school finally dims down to nothingness, and Louis watches Harry stumble his way across the asphalt in front of the line of trees to make his way to the parking lot.

As Harry visibly scans the large crowd of upperclassmen standing beside their own cars in the lot, Louis notices exactly when he spots him, so he fixes his hair and waves. Louis’s been throwing his keys in the air and repeatedly catching them, and when Harry finally reaches him, Louis smirks and opens the passenger door.

“Well, hello, Sophomore Harry. Feelin’ any older?” he asks.

Harry buckles up and answers when Louis sits down next to him and starts the car, “No. It’s just another day. What about you?”

“Feelin’ _pretty_ seniorly,” Louis jokes.

Harry chuckles. “Stupid.”

“Got plans tonight?”

As Louis’s exiting the parking lot, Harry looks at him like he’s crazy.

“When do I ever have plans?” Harry asks back.

“Oh, give it a rest.” Louis rolls his eyes. “You act like you’re the most unpopular person in school. You’re a little celebrity at this place.”

“I’m not little.” Harry pulls out a snack from his backpack and begins talking with his mouth full, “And anyway--yeah, I forgot I’ve been invited to about a million things tonight. Too many to choose from.”

Louis smiles. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“I’ll have to think about it. I guess it would help my reputation being in your presence when I arrived at each party, but--”

“Just shut up,” Louis laughs. “So, if you’re not doin’ anything, let’s go out to eat tonight. End-of-the-year feast. Tomorrow I’m back to workin’ full-time till school starts up again, so my schedule’s gonna be all weird.”

“That sucks.” Harry looks out the window.

Louis’s quiet for a bit, shaking off the guilt. He’s making the money _for_ Harry, and he already lives with him. It’s not like he’s being selfish. “Yeah. But it’s good money.”

“I need to get a job.”

“We’ll find you one this year if you want. Or just mooch off me.” Louis winks.

“I don’t want to do that,” Harry mumbles.

Louis acts like he can’t hear him. “Anyway, since I’m off tonight, let’s go out to eat.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“What’s your favorite restaurant, anyway?” Louis goes on. He lets his hands smoothly slide along the steering wheel during the next turn he makes, only to press on the horn in annoyance the next second when someone cuts into his lane without giving a signal. “I guess we just give out licenses to just anyone these days, do we? What the fuck is this?”

“Maybe their turn signal doesn’t work.”

“Maybe they’re an asshole,” Louis corrects. He turns his face to Harry slightly. “Where’d you say you like to go?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I don’t go out to eat much.”

“Pick somewhere. What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” Harry repeats. He shrugs. “Applebee’s, I guess.”

Louis starts laughing. “That’s seriously your favorite restaurant?”

“Don’t be mean to Applebee’s. They have lots of options to choose from. In case I can’t decide. Which I never can.”

“Fine.” Louis smiles. “Then we’ll go to Applebee’s.”

“But I don’t have any money,” Harry reminds him at a stoplight. Louis doesn’t respond, instead turning up the radio. They listen to music and sing all the way to the river, and once they’re there, Harry kicks off his shoes and runs to the water.

He immediately lifts his feet up and down repeatedly, making large splashes. “I’ve missed this soooo much.”

Like usual when he’s around Harry these days, Louis can’t settle down on the inside, especially when Harry’s being cute. Torn between wanting to smoke a cigarette to calm himself down and wanting to stick his tongue down Harry’s throat to--well, stick his tongue down Harry’s throat, Louis takes off his tank top and runs into the water next to him. When the sun goes behind the trees, they eventually find a large root to sit on, and Louis makes his move. He doesn’t like to smoke in Harry’s presence.

 

* * *

 

At home, Harry changes out of his wet clothes and puts on another outfit for dinner. It’s nothing special, just jeans and another regular t-shirt, but the fabric is tight on his body and the jeans show off his legs, and as he primps his hair in front of his mirror, Harry thinks that he could maybe even get an Alpha like Ashton--an Alpha who’s just his friend--to look at him in a certain way just by how suggestive he looks. That’s saying something. Harry never compliments himself.

He puts on flavored chapstick before rushing outside to meet Louis, and he finds him already right there by the door a few feet away. Louis’s spinning around in a circle with Fizzy slung over his shoulder. She’s squealing, “Put me down! Put me down!” and Louis’s laughing and shouting, “Never, never!” and the twins are at his legs wanting a turn, too, so he crouches down to the floor until both of them climb on his back. Louis play-fights with all of them, roaring like a lion, and Harry watches the whole thing with a smile on his face until he remembers. Dinner. As he steps closer, Louis must be able to smell him because he looks up.

“Are you and Harry going somewhere?” Pheobe asks.

Louis nods. “Applebee’s.”

“I wanna go!” everyone shouts at once. “I wanna go, too!”

“Eww. Why would I want to eat with you?” he jokes, plugging his nose. “Stinky, stinky girls, all of you.”

Lottie walks downstairs then with a miniature bag of chips in one hand and an empty pint of ice cream in the other. From a distance, she narrows her eyes at Louis. “You’re teaching them bad things,” she chides.

“Joking that they stink? No better than what you’re teaching them. Painting their faces all up in elementary school. They look your age.”

“You’re the one who stinks,” Lottie counters. “I can smell your cologne all the way upstairs.”

“Your point?” Louis flicks hair out of his eyes. “At least I’m not walkin’ around the house in sweatpants covered in potato chip crumbs. Lookin’ pretty rough, there...”

“I _’m on my_ \--”

Louis grabs Harry’s hand and leads him outside before Lottie can get her entire rebuttal out. In the car and at the restaurant, there’s nothing new to talk about, but it’s not normally an issue finding topics of conversation around Louis. Harry likes it when it’s easy like this, when he doesn’t have to worry too much. When he can pretend they’re on a date as a normal, bonded couple and maybe they’re old enough to be allowed to drink so they sit at the bar and Harry orders something very yummy and starts rubbing Louis’ inner thigh right there and Louis doesn’t act like it’s ‘cause of the liquor.

Instead, they sit at a booth, and Harry gets cold because he’s right under an air conditioning vent but doesn’t say anything, and Louis isn’t wearing a hoodie because he never does indoors but he sees Harry’s goosebumps and sits next to him for warmth, instead, while Harry scarfs down both their appetizer and his main course like a beast. It’s nice.

At the end of the meal when both of them are too full to talk anymore, Louis finally says, “I’m ordering dessert to-go for the girls. Want something?”

Harry just shakes his head. He remembers from his long-ago home-economics classes that it’s not proper for omegas to overeat in front of Alphas, but he doesn’t think Louis really cares much about that stuff, anyway. Still, after deliberately choosing the cheapest stuff on the menu, Harry’s stomach is stuffed.

“What a cheap date,” Louis jokes.

“Heyyy.” Harry nudges Louis’ side. “I’m so full. Look at this food baby.” Harry pokes out his belly and leans back, smiling. He spreads his fingers out atop his stomach. “I’m gonna burst.”

Louis puts his hand on top of Harry’s. “You should give that thing a name.”

Harry laughs. “Shut up.”

Knowing he’s eaten way too much, he blushes when Louis keeps staring at his stomach on the walk out the door.

  


* * *

 

Summer is officially underway at the Tomlinson house, and it’s so much different than what Harry’s used to. At his old house, he and Gemma would regularly spend the days lying around watching television and bickering, sometimes going outside if it wasn’t too hot, but mostly just wishing they could get a ride to one of their friends’ houses to _do something_. Harry’s bike or Gemma’s friends with licenses would be their only source of escape from the boredom. Now, living at Louis’ house, it’s like...there’s nothing to escape _from_. The house is active and lively, not boring and tense.

Of course, Harry still sleeps in every day. That hasn’t changed. He’s got an entire year’s backlog of sleep to catch up on, and he’s only growing. However, the difference is that he’s not sleeping all day because he’s bored. Austin plans daily activities for all the children--from crafts to games to pool-time to movie day, like a daycare--and Harry easily falls into the role of his assistant, happily helping out with all of it.

When he’s not really feeling like it, or when the kids are napping, or when Austin tells him _I’m fine don’t worry,_  Harry gets a head start on his summer assignments. His nights are spent in Louis’ room, or in the hottub with Louis, or in the pool with Louis, or in his room thinking about Louis, or at his friends’ houses talking about Louis. He’s gotten pretty hooked, but he can’t help it. It’s like Louis’s a part of him. He can’t stop thinking about him. Ever.

Niall’s often confused when Harry sees him out and about without Louis tagging along. “So are you guys dating now or what?” he asks a lot, and Harry just smiles at the ground. He won’t tell Niall everything that he tells Will and Zayn. He wants to say “Well, that’s the goal,” but instead, “We’re just friends,” comes out instead.

The “with benefits” qualifier comes from Will.

And for now, being friends with benefits isn’t really the worst thing in the world. Harry now gets why people in real relationships always seem to go off the radar for a while. He’s completely infatuated, even with Louis at work almost forty hours a week. Harry wants more, though--obviously--and it soon becomes hard to ignore the feeling that time is fleeting, like he and Louis have to mate _as soon as possible or else,_  but in these moments of fretting, Zayn calms him down. Or tries to.

“You’re fifteen. It’s not like you’re thirty, you know.”

“But what if someone else comes along before he can mate with me? Someone he works with, or--”

“You said Ashton said you’re doing all the right stuff. Just keep doing what you’re doing. Initiating it or whatever. It’ll work.” Zayn rubs his eyes lazily. “Don’t know why you’re so damn worried all the time. He’s, like, slow as shit and all, but Louis doesn’t even look at any other omegas. You’re lucky.”

“Yeah,” Harry responds, and he stops talking about it but doesn’t stop thinking about it. He can’t help thinking that Zayn’s only saying that stuff ‘cause he’s started smoking weed lately and is all carefree about things that he really _should_ be worrying about. But whatever. Zayn doesn’t understand.

Harry and Louis live together, at least, and even though Louis works a ton, it _is_ summer. It’s the best scenario possible. Just three weeks into his summer vacation, Harry succeeds in non-awkwardly turning it into his own personal kiss-fest. His new habit of constantly walking around the house wearing just swim trunks and tank tops only helps him out.

Any time he and Louis are together and not kissing just has Harry daydreaming about it, and any time they’re not together has Harry missing it.

Sometimes it’s carefree between them, like it should be. Them laughing into each other’s mouths after they’ve drank a lot of soda at midnight. Sometimes it’s serious and gives Harry chills, making him feel weak and small. During those times, he can physically sense the meticulousness Louis’s using with his lips, and he tries his hardest to be just as good. It’s believable in these moments that this trick is working, that Louis’s starting to really be affected by it all. Then sometimes their kisses can be almost sad, like there’s an unspoken longing somewhere in the air that changes the mood, almost making Harry whine. That’s usually rare, though. It’s mostly just heavy--heavy until the point Louis stops it from getting heavier, confirming that, no, Louis really isn’t being affected at all. Not in the way Harry wants.

One night, he and Louis kiss so long, Harry’s mouth gets chapped. Another, they press their bodies so close while they’re making out that the next afternoon, Harry wakes up physically sore. When they’re driving somewhere in Louis’ car, it’s smoky, and when they’re all alone on the park bench behind Louis’ work, it’s sweet, and when they’re laying in one another’s beds, it’s sort of naughty. It’s never the same.

What _is_ always the same is they don’t talk about it. Still. Not about what Harry did when he was drunk that one time, not about Louis finding out he’s now on heat regulators, not about anything deep. Besides the knock-on-Harry’s-bedroom-door and cheeky whispered, “Wanna practice?” that once came from Louis when it was real late and no one was awake and he was just coming home from his shitty late-night shift, during none of these times do they actually discuss or label what they’re doing. After all, that’s already been done and decided.

Despite the lovely fog that covers his body and fills his brain even in his sleep, it’s all so fucking confusing. Like--seriously, totally, all-around confusing. Even after Harry knowing Louis for his entire life, the way he acts is so hard to interpret. Or maybe he’s just being too much of an omega about this whole thing. Reading into things that aren’t there.

But they have to be there eventually. They have to. Harry just has to step it up.  


* * *

**Early July**

 

“But, Mom,” Louis whines like a child in front of the refrigerator, “why do all their friends get to go to the lake with us and I can’t take any of mine?”

“Because you took your friends when you were their age,” his mom explains without looking at him, “and now it’s their turn. You’ve lived all that already. Let your sisters make _their_ memories now.”

“This’ll be a lot of fun,” Louis gripes. “Fifteen girl omegas in one lakehouse. Woo.”

“They’re just bringing one friend each, Lou. And Anne and Gemma and Harry are going, too,” she adds. “For the whole week.”

Louis swallows the next argument he has on his lips and shuts his mouth. “Oh.”

Well, that changes things. That changes things a lot.

Crammed inside three SUVs, Louis, his dog, his four sisters and their four friends, his mom, his dad, his two uncles, his cousin, Harry, _and_ Harry’s sister and mom take a trip down south to the family’s lakehouse. Normally they’d go to the beach first and then the lakehouse in the later part of the summer, but Louis’s not complaining. Harry’s with them.

Louis spends the first day (always the best day) on the lake, of course, waterskiing, lying in inner tubes, jumping off the dock, and spending as much time away from his family as possible. Because Harry’s cheesy when it comes to the Fourth of July, he wears both a bandana and swim shorts in the pattern of the American flag, and the trunks are little and tight and make inappropriate thoughts enter Louis’ mind as he watches him.

By the end of the day, Harry is adorably sunburned and sits beside Louis at the picnic table by the house with his shirt off while James and Louis’ mom tag-team grilling burgers and hot dogs and shrimp. Ted, unable to swim in the water or even move around like he used to, just lays at Louis’ feet, panting. All the kids are nearby running around and squealing, and Lottie’s by herself in a lawn chair reading a book.

Hanging out in the sun just sitting next to Harry makes Louis feel the happiest he’s felt in a long time.

His good mood doesn’t last very long. Just a day, practically. A hurricane from the coast brings bad storms with it, and it ends up raining non-stop for days, ruining any plan for fireworks. Ruining any plans for any sort of vacation. There’s absolutely nothing to do because the weather’s so bad, and with, like, seventeen people inside the house, everything quickly becomes stifling.

“Are you sure you don't wanna play cards with us?” Lottie asks from the floor on the third straight day of storms. She’s on the floor lying on her stomach with Fizzy and some other girls Louis can’t remember the names of, and it looks like they’re playing Rummy.

Sitting on the sofa watching light rain hit the deck and pool up in puddles, Louis feels like screaming. “I already said no.”

Lottie rolls her eyes. “You're sitting there complaining you're bored, but okay. Whatever.”

“You’re only asking because no one else knows how to play and you don’t know enough to teach them. I don’t feel like explaining the rules to everyone every single time it’s someone’s turn.”

“You’re rude.”

“I’m honest.” Louis shrugs, looking at his fingernails. “People that don’t know how to play cards shouldn’t play cards.”

Louis’s annoyed. It isn't even about Lottie, but she’s a good object to let it out on. He’s just feeling claustrophobic with no way to escape, no way to do anything. What a lovely vacation. He just wants to be alone with Harry--that’s all he was looking forward to--and he can’t be. Hasn’t been for days. Not really. And when he goes back home, he’s just gonna have to work every damn day again and only get to see him when he comes home. Lovely.

His skin feels prickly, like his legs at night before he goes to sleep and has to constantly kick them before they settle down. Random thoughts of making out with Harry run through his mind before they flash and change to thoughts of domination, of tearing off Harry's clothes. He just wants to _touch_ Harry, get away from the room of people and finally get his hands on his body. Do things to him that went way beyond what they have. Whatever it is they have. If they even have any real _thing_ anymore. Louis doesn’t know. Can’t tell what Harry wants. It’s all just kissing.

Louis never fucking thought he’d actually be _upset_ about this arrangement.

Still. Kissing is better than nothing at all, and nothing at all is what he’s been stuck with.

From the corner of the sofa, Harry’s watching Louis, as Louis always seems to be catching him doing at the most inopportune times. _Watching_ Louis. Giving him attention. Making Louis go crazy because he wants more and he can’t have it. Harry doesn’t want those things. Relationship things. Not with him, he guesses. He’ll just remain the reliable friend Harry’s comfortable _practicing_ with until Harry’s ready to go back to Ashton. He’d probably stop taking those pills then.

And even if there was the chance that Harry _did_ want a relationship, it’s not like that would magically change things. It’s not like Louis’d be allowed to mark him underage either way. The threats from Harry’s dad back in the day were serious enough that Louis understands he’s still on his radar--still always gonna _be_ on his radar since it’s not that large of a town they live in--and if Louis fucks up, who’s to say that Harry wouldn’t be moved to a different state by the very next day? Even his own mother and uncle would kick his ass if he did something like that. “He’s on track to get a free-ride to any college he wants to go to with those grades of his, and that won’t happen if _blah blah blah.._.”

That’s really why it’s so important for Louis to control himself. He just didn’t realize it’d be so fucking hard. That he’d start feeling so...sappy about everything. So full of yearning whenever they just make out. And the yearning is, like...from inside his chest. It’s in his pants, too, but that’s not new. The pull from deep in his solar plexus _is_ new, however, and it’s scary. He can't tell if it's normal to feel this fucking emotional.

Alphas aren’t emotional. Alphas beat their competition. They get what they want. They win. They don’t fucking cry in secrecy when the omega they really want chooses someone else over them.

The way that he feels about Harry...Louis’s just never heard other Alphas talk about omegas like that. They don’t say out loud the sappy things that Louis thinks. They talk about sex. And knotting. Omegas having nice asses. Never about bonding and family and...love.

Harry has his long limbs curled up under him as he continues to read a summer assignment for school beside Louis, and he looks innocent. And studious. And...sexy. And he shouldn’t look sexy from looking innocent. It’s not fair. Even though he’s watching Louis with concern, all Louis can do is scowl. Harry’s fucking wearing glasses. Louis’s so damn frustrated.

Harry reaches out to touch Louis, and by complete instinct, Louis flinches. The most horrific look crosses Harry's face as he quickly goes back to reading--or staring at--his book, so Louis quickly scoots closer to Harry and puts a hand around his ankle. It’s the most he can do in a room full of people, and it calms him down just the tiniest amount, but his face remains severe.

“What’s wrong?” Harry whispers.

“They're too many damn people in this place, and there’s nothing to do,” he grumbles.

“Sorry.”

Louis sighs. “It’s not your fault, Haz.”

“But my family’s here--”

“We invited you here.”

“...What is it, then?”

“I'm so freakin’--” Louis squeezes his hand around Harry's ankle and shakes his head likes he’s going crazy. “I can't explain it. I don’t know. I'm going out of my fucking skin right now.”

“Maybe you should do something to take your mind off everything, then. Get away from everyone...”

“Like what? There's nothing to do here. And it’s raining.”

“We could still go outside,” Harry suggests. “If you want. It’s not raining bad anymore.”

“Yeah.” Louis’s still mopey.

“Well. Maybe you could take a shower or something since you're kinda agitated. That always helps me. Well, I take baths, but I can’t picture you with all the bubbles and the scrubs...But, you know, if that’s what you do, then no judgment...”

Louis’ silent for a long time, prepared to brush aside any suggestion from anybody at this point, but not Harry. “That's what I'll do.”

Harry chews on the end of his highlighter as he watches Louis’ face. “Shower or bath?” he tries to joke.

“Shower,” Louis mutters distractedly. He’ll take a shower. A cold, cold, cold shower. They’re the fucking worst, but it would help, at least. Yeah, he _could_ take a hot shower, jerk off to the suppressed thoughts he’s been having about Harry all week, and go back to living out his day in a fantastic mood. That would mean being immediately caught from the smell, though, and he’s definitely not doing that shit in a public bathroom. He almost just wishes he’d stayed home, away from everybody’s fucking noses.

“Yeah, I think I'll do that.”

“...Okay,” Harry says with a funny look on his face.

“Yeah, nice talk,” Louis finishes with before walking away. He automatically walks back and leans down to Harry as if to kiss him, but before his face makes it to Harry’s, he shakes his head at his behavior and walks away again.

The knowledge that he’s manipulating Harry is starting to really fuck with him. That’s all this is. Manipulation. Just like with Hannah, except this time he really fucking wants to be with Harry. In every way possible. In all the ways.

Louis didn’t think it’d turn into something this complicated. When did he turn into such a damn _omega_ about this?

After arguably the worst shower of his life--not really freezing but not enjoyably hot or anything--Louis walks out of the bathroom and down the hall, still in a rather pissy mood but feeling more numb than anything else. Opening his door, he walks inside and prepares to drop the towel around his waist to get dressed, but just as he’s unfolding it, he notices Harry sitting on his bed.

Louis jolts, holding onto the towel a little tighter. “Shit, Harry, you scared me.”

Harry just smiles softly. “It finally stopped raining,” he explains.

Louis’ eyebrows go up. “It did?”

“Everyone went outside. There’s a rainbow.”

Louis puts on a t-shirt and slides his swim trunks on under his towel. Afterwards, he looks out his window. “Can’t see it from here.”

“Probably can from my room,” Harry tells him.

“Yeah, you got a good view.”

Harry blinks.

“How’s the bed and stuff in there, anyway?” Louis asks in distraction, putting on deodorant. “Your room’s small as shit. I was gonna bitch at Mom ‘cause Lottie’s room is so big, but I forgot.”

“It’s okay that it’s small...She’s sharing with other omegas. I’m all alone.”

“Yeah.”

“...Did you wanna go?”

“Go where?”

Harry’s looking at his hands. “To my room.”

“Oh. Well. Yeah.” Louis’s fumbling around his words like a loser. Of course he wants to go to Harry’s room.

Harry leads the way into the room that he’s been sleeping in, and Louis doesn’t even look around before Harry’s stepping close to Louis and pressing his lips to his. He presses too hard at first, and for a minute it’s weird as Louis’s taken off guard and his mouth struggles to sync up with Harry’s, but then Louis puts his hands on Harry’s hips and takes the lead. It’s immediately after that when Louis feels Harry fall into the kiss. Even as Harry’s starting to get a little taller than Louis, Louis still smiles against Harry’s mouth at the fact that he can still make Harry react this way just from his mouth. And that Harry’s so enthusiastic about it.

Louis’s finally blissful--there's no other word for it--as he continues to move his lips against Harry’s, and he loves how good Harry’s mouth feels. Harry’s gotten so ridiculously good at this, and after being without it for so long-- _days_ \--Louis’s starved. He and Harry fall to the small bed together, moving until Harry’s lying on top of Louis and giggling slightly, but minutes later when they get to the point where their hands start roaming and Louis’ hips start itching to move upwards, Louis has to stop. The cold shower was fucking useless.

Louis pulls back. He tries to squirm a bit to the side so Harry isn’t directly pressed against him. “Harry--hang up--I just need to move for a sec--”

Keeping him from going anywhere, Harry hooks a finger in the elastic of Louis’ shorts and bites his lip. “We won't get caught. They all said they’re going to the water ‘cause all the kids wanted to play.” Harry grins. “They’ll be gone a long time.”

“Yeah, it’s just--”

Harry brings his mouth to cover Louis’ again, and Louis has to physically roll him over. When Harry’s on his back--still never taking his lips away from Louis’--Louis purposefully aligns his body so his dick is pressed into the mattress and not against Harry’s leg, and then he lets himself relax. As much as he can, at least, with the sweet smell of Harry wafting out into the small room.

With a smile, Louis removes the glasses still on Harry’s face, and then he lets himself do more than he normally would, sliding his hands under Harry’s shirt to feel his warm skin while their jaws gently open and close--and then stay open while their tongues rub together. Every little noise suddenly leaving Harry’s mouth just makes Louis kiss deeper.

When his jaw is actually sore from moving so much and his mouth feels wet all over, Louis moves his lips differently as he slows everything down to eventually stop altogether. He breathes heavily like he always does around this time, but he still kisses Harry one last time without tongue while he waits for his chest to stop beating so hard. This is where he usually lays his head on Harry’s chest while listening to his heart, festering in the all-consuming ache that’s blistering his insides, trying to ignore the huge throbbing flesh hard against his own thigh.

He doesn’t get to do that this time. Harry’s moved himself out from under Louis and is now lying beside the wall, and he looks unhappy.

Louis lays still as he catches his breath. He feels drunk and can barely move. “What is it?”

Harry shakes his head.

Like he’s just knotted in his pants or something, Louis closes his eyes for just a few seconds to make himself feel kind of normal again, but Harry still looks--and smells--unhappy when Louis opens them. “What is it?” he repeats.

“Have I--Have I done something?” Harry asks briskly.

Finally sitting up, Louis tries his hardest to actually think and have a conversation. “No,” he answers curiously. “Why?”

“You’re just--Nothing.” Harry shakes his head and sits up entirely, too, and now Louis feels distinct waves of anger leave his body.

That’s not what he was expecting at a moment like this, and his first instinct is to get defensive at Harry’s bad mood. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” Harry grumbles. He looks out the window next to the bed. Whatever rainbow might’ve been there has gone.

“Aren’t you in a splendid mood. Am I that bad?” Louis tries to joke.

“No.”

Harry’s pouting, now smelling... _sad_ again or something, and Louis can’t keep up. “ _What, Harry?_ What is it?”

Harry looks away again. He hides himself back against the wall and rubs his eyes with his fingers.

“Well..I mean…what? We were just kissing and now...this. Are you okay?”

Harry sighs. It sounds more like a groan.

“Does it have to do with kissing me?”

Harry wordlessly nods.

“Well, uh...what’s the problem, then? Did I...”

“It’s just making me go a little crazy lately, that’s all,” Harry answers quietly. He quickly tries to exit the bed.

Louis grabs his arm. “No, stay. What d’you mean?”

“I don’t know, Louis. I can’t explain it.”

“Then...I don’t know, Harry, if it’s too...maybe we should...I mean,” he asks, cringing on the inside. “What do you want me to do? Do you want to keep doin’ this at all?”

Not answering, Harry quickly shuffles out of Louis’ grasp, about to get off the bed for real.

“Harry, come back,” Louis tells him, pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Don't do that. I was just askin’ what you want.”

Luckily, Harry doesn’t actually leave the bed, but he keeps his back to Louis. “If you want to stop, that’s fine. It’s whatever you want to do.”

“Harry, I don’t want to stop,” Louis tells him passionately, the loudest he’s been yet in the still room. “That’s not what I said. I just wanna know what _you_ want. I can’t read your mind. I just wish you’d tell me what you want.”

Harry’s eyes are bright and his face is expressionless when he stares wordlessly at Louis, and Louis notices he’s breathing faster.

“Do you not believe me?” Louis asks.

Harry looks away.

“You don’t,” Louis quietly realizes.

“I’ve. I mean, I want to.”

“But you don’t.”

“I just don't understand why... when we...kiss…” Harry takes a deep breath and sighs. He frowns before turning away again. “I’m just being stupid.” His voice is higher than normal, so he clears his throat.

“No, you’re not. Keep talking.”

When Harry speaks again, his voice is low. Normal. “I just mean, I know it’s just...um, practice. But you're always the one who ends it first. Always.”

“So...you think I don’t want to keep doing it?”

Harry gives Louis a shy look. “I mean. I don’t know. What am I supposed to think? It’s like you want it to be over. Or, like, I’m a freak for feeling like--”

“I already told you that--That’s not what it’s like--I just don’t want you to--”

Louis’s at a loss for words. He’s only trying to be respectable here, and he’s coming across as being the weakest Alpha imaginable. He’s not trying to fucking hurt Harry’s feelings, and that’s clearly what he’s doing, but there’s no fucking solution. Can’t Harry tell without Louis having to literally spell it out for him that he’s ready to come in his pants from the time they kiss to the time they stop? It’s from some type of deep-within willpower that Louis has the ability to stop in the first place before sinking his teeth in his throat. He’s seventeen and just had an omega _whose legs were spread wide open lying under him_. Does he not _get_ the type of control it takes for Louis to not do something like that in such a perfect situation?

Instead of, like, placing Harry’s hand on his dick to prove how fucking wrong he is, Louis focuses on breathing. They haven’t talked about this--ever--and it’s been weeks. And weeks. Louis thinks of what to say as he exhales for a very long, steady time.

“I’m the one who asked you in the first place if you wanted to do this at all, so...wouldn’t you think that means I want to?”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe you changed your mind.”

“No. Just trying to know what’s in yours.”

“And I’m telling you.” Harry folds his arms.

“Yeah. I get that. But I’m telling you you’re wrong.” Louis gets closer to Harry, puts a hand on his cheek, and leans in again.

Harry shuffles away a bit. “It’s fine. You don’t have to,” he whispers. “You’re just gonna stop anyway.”

As Louis backs his face away in incredulity, he narrows his eyes in challenge. “Oh, am I?”

“You always do.” Harry turns to the side. “Every time.”

With strong hands, Louis turns Harry to face him again. “Listen to me. You don’t get it.”

Harry lifts his chin. “You’re right. I don’t.”

Louis’ voice is almost as slow as Harry’s when he tries to explain himself. “It’s really hard for an Alpha--for me--to...go so far….and then have to stop. Or go back. So...if I keep myself from getting there at all, then...it protects you.”

“But if I’m _telling_ you that’s what I want…” Harry begins mumbling. “And I tell you more than once…”

Louis stares at Harry for a long time. “Is this about Calvin’s?”

Harry’s still mumbling. “Maybe.”

“Harry,” Louis says in annoyance. “You were drunk that night.”

Harry gulps. “So were you,” he still challenges.

“I’m not gonna argue with you about this. What don’t you understand?”

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Yes, you were.” Louis sighs. “And it doesn’t even matter, ‘cause I was--”

“I didn’t throw up,” Harry offers.

Louis sighs. “Do you have to be this difficult about everything?”

“Yes.”

“Listen. It’s not that I want to stop. I’d kiss you forever if I could, alright? But if I _don’t_ stop,” Louis carefully explains, “then it would be very hard...if we kept going...to then stop after that. And I mean, if I’m drunk, forget it. And then...then I’d do something you’d hate me for. Does that make sense?”

Harry nods. It’s very quiet for very long, and then he audibly gulps. “But I could never hate you.”

“Good to know.”

Harry’s face is blank, but Louis sees him bite the side of his mouth before saying so quietly it’s almost inaudible, “I’m not drunk now.”

Louis’ eyes search Harry’s face.

“I'm not drunk now,” Harry repeats, “and I feel the same way.”

Louis’s speechless.

“Is that wrong?”

And Louis still can’t answer.

“‘Cause it doesn’t feel wrong,” he goes on, and Louis closes his eyes.

“No,” he answers quietly. “It doesn’t.” He’s lying. Sort of.

“I just want to keep going,” Harry offers quietly, shrugging. “I don’t want you to keep stopping.”

“You’re asking for more than just kissing, then,” Louis says, throat tight, “because..Harry, I really can’t--It’s gonna get to the point--I mean, it’s already--”

“Is it starting to make you feel crazy, too? Is it just me?”

“Kissing?”

Harry nods frantically. “It’s not just me, is it?”

Louis exhales a long breath. This is so uncomfortable to talk about. “...Crazy...how?”

“I mean, I don’t. I don’t know, Louis. I feel like I can't even...I can't think of anything at all when we kiss except these... “ His voice drops an octave, and he sounds like he’s close to having a panic attack or something. “...Feelings. Like, all week I’ve just--And now that we’re here--and when you stop, it just--I just need to know--”

“Calm down.” Surely Harry isn't talking about the same feelings Louis’s suddenly been filled with. The sappy ones. Louis’s been fucking overly emotional lately for some reason, that’s all. Louis isn’t smooth at all when he repeats Harry. “What feelings?”

“Just. Feelings.” Harry’s speaking in an impatient tone now. “When we kiss. And..I just...they’re strong. ‘Cause of the...kissing. And if it’s only happening to me, then just tell me. Just let me know. Because it’s starting to make me think I’m stupid for saying all of this out loud.”

“You’re the smartest person I know.” Louis shifts on the bed so Harry won’t see any stirring from within his shorts. He’s fucking getting aroused again just by hearing the word _feelings_. “I’m just trying to understand...what...kind of feelings are you talkin’ about?”

Harry shrugs uncomfortably. “They fill me up and, and when we--they’re just getting more intense...No matter what. I can’t think, I can’t concentrate...and it’s getting--Is it just me?”

“No,” Louis answers quietly. “I feel a lot of things around you, too.”

“It’s like...my whole body’s electric, but I can’t breathe,” Harry continues, whispering. He’s relaxed enough that he’s laying down on the bed again, and Louis lies before him and wraps his arms around his waist, glad that Harry’s letting him, glad that he’s not irritated anymore. “And I’m just happy but...frustrated about it. Like I want more. So when you stop...it’s not good.”

“Are you talkin’ about...just--” Louis clears his throat. “Are you talkin’ about gettin’ turned on?”

In Louis’ arms, Harry shrugs. Nods.

“Do you not feel the same way? I know I’m not--I know I’m me and you’re you. But. The kissing...I think I’m sort of going insane, Louis, I really am, and--I’ve been--”

Harry’s starting to fidget again. “No, Harry, stop. Just breathe.”

And under Louis’ order, it’s the quietest Harry’s been since he started his whole rant. In the late afternoon sun bleeding in from the window, his bluish eyes radiate.

“All the time,” Louis answers, and his voice is fucked up. He clears his throat. “I do feel like that. All the time.”

Like...right now. Like now, like yesterday, like tomorrow.

Harry is quiet for so long it starts worrying Louis, but then he looks down at Louis’ shorts with his bottom lip bit into his mouth. “Does it hurt?”

Christ. When did Harry get so fucking blunt? Louis’ first instinct is to try to shift positions, but Harry’s already noticed the ridiculously huge protrusion, so. “Um...It gets uncomfortable,” Louis admits. “But it feels...mostly good.”

“And you always stop because you’re afraid you can’t control it?”

Actually, Louis _can’t_ control that. What he’s more worried about controlling would be tearing off Harry’s clothes, mounting Harry, marking Harry, coming in his pants in front of Harry...those things. Getting hard when he’s around Harry? There’s no controlling that. Not even worth trying.

“Basically,” Louis answers, clearing his throat. “Yes.”

“I have the same feeling,” Harry admits quietly, and he turns his eyes down. Louis chances a peek to his shorts. He doesn’t see anything sticking out, but he gawks anyway.

“Oh.” Louis clears his throat again. “Have you tried...I dunno. Taking care of it? So maybe...it’ll help? When we do this? I don’t know...”

“It doesn’t…I’m an omega.” Harry blushes and looks away, shrugging. “Is that...what you do?”

“I mean…” Louis clears his throat again--for the fiftieth time--and chuckles a little uncomfortably. “Yeah, Harry. Normally.”

“Really?”

“It’s not...that...complicated of a thing to do, I guess.”

“Oh.”

They don’t talk anymore after that, and the moment is heavy. Louis reaches out to touch Harry’s face, and then he can’t stop. He touches his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then his hair. Harry’s hair is soft, and it shouldn’t be so soft and so fucking pretty, but it is, so Louis carts his fingers through it and plays with the curls at the ends. He doesn’t know what else to do with his hands, where exactly he can touch Harry, so he just gets closer and starts kissing him again. It immediately feels like the most perfect thing that’s ever existed, their lips together again.

Harry’s right. This is getting overwhelming. All of it. Louis backs away, deeply breathing in Harry’s scent, and the look Harry gives him almost makes Louis laugh, but he can’t. “I’m not stopping.”

Harry pouts but then immediately smiles afterwards. “Then come back.”

Louis smiles back. “Just wait a second. I want to smell you.”

“Do I...Do I stink?”

Louis shakes his head and breathes in deeply. “Opposite.”

“I smell good?”

“Yeah, you’re...It’s nice. You smell good.” Even with the pills Harry’s taking giving him a different odor than Louis’s used to, it’s impossible for Harry to smell anything but good.

“You do, too.” Harry smiles back. “Come back.”

Louis stays still and grins. “I am.”

“I’m gonna kick you out my room if you don’t come back,” Harry tells him, but he’s not laughing. He’s serious. “I’m--Louis.”

Louis’ eyes are still twinkling, trying to bring some type of humor to this intense conversation, but the look in Harry’s eyes doesn’t match his own.

“Louis, kiss me,” Harry whispers, and that changes things. Makes waves of-- _something_ \--crash against Louis’ insides. He reaches for Harry then and crushes him to his chest with a force he doesn’t intend but can’t control.

Then, there’s nothing stopping him. With his hand tangled up in strands of Harry’s hair, Louis pushes his head forward to meet his mouth and firmly keeps him there. Harry had told him in no uncertain terms that he’d be mad at him if he didn’t do this. If he stopped. And he’s tired of making Harry anything less than happy. Even if this is probably gonna go too far.

Luckily, instead of reacting negatively, Harry grabs at Louis with equal passion, splaying his hands on either side of his face. His kiss quickly turns frantic, like they’re picking off right where they left off earlier at full-speed, making up for lost time, and it doesn’t take long for their hands to roam again. Louis slips his hand under Harry’s shirt, Harry’s tummy muscles twitching under his fingers, and something about that small reaction from physical contact is intimate. Louis rolls Harry over onto his back again.

Immediately, Harry opens his legs again to let Louis snuggle in between, and Louis knows now that Harry can feel his dick ‘cause he can feel Harry’s too, and--somehow, miraculously--that’s the entire point this time. Holy shit. Holy shit holy shit. Louis moves so he’s not completely smushing Harry and has his breath taken away from him when Harry’s hand on the back of his head pushes his face down.

The way that Harry’s kissing Louis-- _God_ , Louis can just imagine that it’s not all just some fake thing because of hormones, that this is _real_ , that the feelings inside Louis are inside Harry, too, and that they’re doing this _for real._ That Harry’s his omega. Just that thought alone--Harry being Louis’ omega, _his_ \--has Louis groaning into Harry’s mouth and jutting his hips forward.

He hears Harry whimper and then they’re really rubbing together without thinking--both of them, without mercy, a bit faster and a bit faster still--and Louis’s losing himself quicker than he wants to. Because it’s all so much that he keeps his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he can’t tell if Harry’s liking this as much as he is, and he’s liking this a whole fucking lot. After a few moments, Louis opens his eyes, stops moving his hips so rapidly, and asks into Harry’s mouth, "Is--this okay?”

Harry nods rapidly. His hands squeeze the sides of Louis’ face. “Yeah.”

Thank God. Louis can’t breathe. “It’s good?”

“It’s--” Harry pants. “It helps.” His hands are in Louis’ hair now and on his neck and clutching his shoulders, and Jesus Christ.

So Louis can’t help but keep going, not able to stop the rhythm of his hips naturally thrusting quick and fast like this is the most natural thing in the world, making drool form in his mouth and causing his chest to rumble. Harry finally breaks away from Louis’s mouth first, something that he normally doesn’t do. Panting again, he turns his face to the side and slows his body.

“What’s wrong?” Louis’s panting too, body plastered on top of Harry’s. Harry’s legs are wrapped around his lower back, and they’re so unbelievably close Louis can’t comprehend it. He smells so unbelievably good.

Harry shakes his head, but he’s got a small grimace on his face. He stills.

Louis pushes his upper body up, grimacing now himself. “It hurts?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, pulling Louis back down.

Louis’ muscles slump. He’s never felt like less of an Alpha. He can’t even do this right; Harry’s not happy. “What--What do you want me to do?”

Harry looks down between their bodies. “It’s just not really...here...that it..that it feels good for me.”

“Oh.” Louis deflates a bit before he looks at Harry knowingly. “ _Oh_ ”

“We could--what if I--I could move. Hold on.”

Awkwardly adjusting his position so his hips are now pivoted completely up, legs in the air, Harry looks at Louis almost shyly before asking if it’s still okay like this. Nodding, Louis slowly matches his torso to the area at the very back of Harry’s shorts, and they meet each other’s eyes and collectively gasp when Louis presses forward again just like before.

This is different.

Louis doesn’t move as quickly as he just did a second ago, instead closing his eyes to savor this new feeling, the soft and perfect friction that’s so different and somehow even better than it just was a second ago. This is...this is nice. Louis’s pressed into a dip, and he can feel all of Harry this way, like they both aren’t even wearing clothes. As Harry starts barely moving again, Louis starts responding with his own hips, and he’s sure he’s not imagining the dampness he keeps rubbing against. He knows he’s not imagining the smell.

As his breathing speeds back up, Louis opens his eyes but is sure they look like slits because of how heavy they feel. Is this what it’s like? Mating? It has to be. It has to be all of this and better because then they really wouldn’t have clothes on, and then everything would be even closer. Instead of rubbing back and forth along a damp crevice, he’d be _inside_ Harry. Harry’d be...Harry’d be all around him.

When Louis can’t help but go faster again, he’s removed from his reverie of actually fucking Harry when Harry pulls down on his shirt desperately.

“Come back.”

“It’s gonna--you’re gonna be squished.”

Harry pulls on Louis’ shirt until Louis is horizontal on top of him again, feet wrapped around his back from under his armpits. “Keep kissing me.”

Louis immediately can’t help but thrust again before he can even get his mouth to work. He does it once and then stops. It feels too good. Everything is tight and cramped in the best of ways. Louis shakes his head. “Harry--”

“It’s okay,” Harry whispers. “Keep going.”

“This is--” Louis closes his eyes. He’s fucking sweating. “Harry, if we don’t--I’m gonna--”

“It doesn’t matter. I want you to.”

Louis barely moves his hips, and he swallows, flicking hair out of his eyes. “This is--”

“Really fucking good.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Louis chuckles into Harry’s mouth.

Eventually, as Louis keeps moving his hips--now with difficulty since everything’s so tight--Harry’s breaths are hard and heavy and he starts making noises from deep in his throat. Louis just clutches one of his legs to hold onto so he can blindly keep going as he feels himself about to come already, and in his state, he doesn’t care about anything but _Harry_ and _greed_ and _more--_ fuck everything he was worried about before. He pushes Harry’s shirt up to try to feel some type of skin, and he feels around at everything as he keeps his mouth plastered to Harry’s. His fingers find a nipple and squeeze it as he groans, feeling his knot start to fatten already. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe this is happening.

“Oh, my God,” Harry says in shock, loudly, and it almost scares Louis for a second before he grunts in response and moves his fingers to Harry’s other nipple, and then Harry starts shaking and clutching Louis’ body so hard Louis almost can’t move at all, so his knot just widens right there uncomfortably in his shorts until he starts violently coming, sticking his tongue so far down Harry’s throat it’s probably almost gross.

Things get wetter and stickier between their legs as Harry makes a series of harsh noises into Louis’ mouth. Finally breaking away from Harry’s lips, Louis groans and collapses on top of him, panting into his ear while he releases every last bit left inside him into his shorts.

Harry goes limp. His arms let go of Louis and fall to the mattress, his legs straighten out, and Louis feels his body lose all the tightness from before.

Louis feels high. He’d just given Harry an orgasm. He’d just given Harry an orgasm. Stiff-bodied and sticky, Louis rolls off of Harry, revelling. He’d just given Harry an orgasm. Both of them are still breathing so fast they can’t speak, so Louis just keeps reliving that thought again and again and again.

It’s the middle of the day, and the sunlight coming in from outside coats their clothes in a dusty glow. They just lay there until, after a long delay, Louis finally speaks.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry gasps, letting out a long, slow breath.

“That was new,” Louis says quietly. He needs to change clothes.

“That was. That was intense.”

Afterwards, they smile at each other and eventually get up. Harry goes to the bathroom, and Louis puts on a new pair of shorts. Things are awkward for a little bit, but when they go outside into the humid and damp air, it’s like it’s another normal day except maybe they’re a tad more quiet together. All day, they still swim and play volleyball and watch belated fireworks side-by-side like they didn’t just do what they just did. Like they didn’t just have sex with their clothes on. But they did.

And it doesn’t stop there.

Like Louis’s living in a real life fucking dream, the next night, while he’s awake at midnight watching stupid television in bed (really just reliving the events from yesterday inside his head over and over, just like he’s been doing non-stop since it happened), he hears a creaking from outside his room. He takes the remote on his lap, mutes the television just as his doorknob begins silently turning, and sits up, ready to flash his eyes.

He doesn’t. It’s Harry.

“Harry,” Louis says in relief. And surprise. “You okay?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Louis makes a face as if to say “me either” and lifts the side of the blanket to invite Harry inside. He walks right to the bed and gets under the covers beside Louis, and Louis can immediately feel the heat from his skin. He’s been really sunburned lately.

He drapes a leg over one of Louis’ and rests his head on Louis’ shoulder, forehead against Louis’ neck. Feeling hypersensitive of every single place their bodies touch, Louis knows he’s not imagining how squirmy Harry’s being, how he keeps finding excuses to touch him as they’re blankly watching the television together, how his fingertips keep brushing against the little hairs on Louis’ bare chest. It’s almost like he’s challenging Louis to do something but won’t ask for it.

At that point, Louis rolls over onto his side, holding onto Harry’s waist. There’s no talking this time, no pretense. Louis knows what he wants.

Before kissing Harry, Louis presses his lips to his jaw, a risky move. But after what they did yesterday, Louis knows he can handle it. He drags his mouth in a path up Harry’s jawline, all the way to his ear, and then he kisses that, too. _He smells so good._

It’s almost terrifying how good this sudden loss of restraint feels. Knowing that Harry’s been losing control, as well, that’s it’s both of them in this whirlwind now whenever they make out, has Louis acting reckless. It’s not even like he’s expecting a repeat of what happened yesterday. It’s more about the fact that he doesn’t have to control himself so much anymore.

With his hands on Louis’ shoulders, Harry whines. “Stop playin’ around and kiss me.”

Louis kisses his way back up Harry’s jaw and then his chin before moving to Harry’s mouth. He smiles against Harry’s lips but doesn't kiss. “You’re so _demanding_ lately,” he jokes.

“I like kissing you,” Harry admits.

Smiling bigger if possible, Louis swells with pride. “Good. You should.”

Harry just stares at him, lips still touching Louis’. It tickles Louis when he speaks. “I’m waiting.”

He’s waiting. He’s so beautiful. It’s dark and Louis is still taken aback by it. “Yeah.”

Louis lets his body relax beside Harry’s and winds his arms around his back, easily pursing his lips to meet Harry’s waiting ones. They fall into some sort of lazy and deep kiss, resting their heads on pillows. There’s a smell in the air that’s intoxicating, pulling Louis to push his knee in between Harry’s legs, but that’s as far as he goes. This is comfortable and pleasurable enough just like this.

They make sounds into each other’s mouths. Happy sounds. _Mmms_ and _hhuhs_ , sounds that are soft. Nothing is rushed right now; it’s slow and sleepy. Their tongues are massaging, not wrestling. Louis’ body is still on fire from it, regardless, and he hears Harry’s heart start to race. Harry breaks contact from Louis first.

With how glossy his eyes are, Harry looks drunk. With how quietly he’s speaking, he couldn’t be saying anything at all. “Could I--I mean. Is it okay if I touch you?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers, smiling lazily. He wiggles even closer to Harry, squeezing his waist. “Touch all you want.”

He closes his eyes and presses back against Harry’s damp lips, not prepared at all for Harry’s hand reaching around underneath the covers and touching him directly on his dick.

Harry’s fingers just barely brush it, but it’s in a good spot, and Louis moans--moans, like an omega--eyes wild and awake. _“Harry!”_

“How do you do it yourself? Without boxers on?”

“I mean.” Louis starts blinking rapidly, staring at Harry. The things that’ve started coming out of his mouth. “Without them, yeah--”

“You could take them off if you wanted?”

Louis laughs a little maniacally. “It’s--You don’t have to, Harry.”

“But I want to.” When Louis can’t respond, Harry pulls the covers up a bit higher to cover his chest. “Do you not want me to?”

Louis is still incredulous. “That’s not...what I said.”

And then Harry beams. Louis lets out a breath and rolls onto his back.

Even though all the lights are off, the television is still brightly illuminating the bed. Louis doesn’t pull the blanket down and doesn’t look at Harry as he takes his cock out of the flap in the front of his boxers, and when he sees himself tenting the covers, he still can’t. It doesn’t make it better when Harry doesn’t comment. He’s completely quiet.

“Do you still want to?”

Harry just nods, and in something Louis’s only ever had happen in dreams, Harry pushes the blanket off both their bodies with his legs and fully exposes him, staring. Peeking down and witnessing himself stock-still, hard, and leaking like he has a million times before, Louis feels truly nervous for the first time ever. The last time he was naked in any way in front of Harry, he was--shit, he was so young.

Slowly, Harry begins moving his hand to Louis’ torso. The look on his face makes Louis fake confidence and take his hand in his own, but he just leads him loosely.

When Harry’s hand--a relatively large hand for an omega, with large fingers--slowly wraps around the base of Louis, even though it doesn’t even cover all of the skin there, it’s amazing. It’s not at all the same feeling Louis gets when he touches himself with his own hand; it’s better. It’s beyond comparison. Louis can’t tell Harry any of this, though, because he’s so excited and his heart is thumping so loud, keeping still and focusing on not letting his teeth drop are literally the only things he can do.

As he removes his hand from the top of Harry’s, Louis bites the inside of his cheek and meets Harry’s eyes. The very air around them feels suddenly odd. Sexual yet...something else. Louis cranes his neck and kisses Harry tenderly without thinking, and despite wanting to grunt out loud in pleasure, he keeps kissing him when he feels Harry’s hand move.

“Is this how you do it?” Harry speaks against his lips.

Louis looks down at Harry pumping his hand, pulling the silky flesh up and down, and just nods. It’s all he can do.

He’s never done it like this before alone, never jerked it without fucking his own hand, and he finds that trying to stay still makes his legs and torso tremble. He grips Harry too-tightly to release his frustration, and in the embarrassing time-frame of just a minute, he’s already spasming.

“Harry,” he mutters after he can vaguely hear a pop from below, signaling his knot’s finally full. “ _Stop_ \--Watch out, watch out.”

On instinct, Louis drops a hand to hold his knot, barely even able to keep his grip because Harry’s own hand keeps rhythmically moving and hitting Louis’, and the sensation of both of their hands together is all it takes. Louis looks down at the image before throwing his head back and clenching every muscle in his body, forcing his jaw to stay shut to keep quiet. He knows he’s already making a mess because he can already feel warmth on his chest and forearm, and it lasts for an insane amount of time before Louis can relax his body and let out the huge breath he was holding inside for so long.

He hasn’t even come down from it yet when he notices Harry’s entire hand sticky and dripping. “Did it get on you? Shit, sorry. Sorry.”

He reaches over the side of the bed and finds a t-shirt to clean Harry off, and after he’s done wiping everything off Harry and then himself, he finally looks at Harry. He’s not facing Louis anymore, curled onto the side like he wants to spoon, and Louis can’t say anything or react in any way. He can only collapse completely back on the bed and stuff his dick back into his boxers, but it’s still hard and the knot’s still there, so it really makes no difference. He looks ridiculous.

Louis pulls the blanket back up to cover both of them to the waist, and he tentatively puts a hand on the little dip at Harry’s waist. It’s really a good thing that Harry can’t see Louis’ face right now because then he doesn’t have to explain why he suddenly feels like fucking crying even while his knot hasn’t even gone down yet. The knot he hopes hasn't completely disgusted Harry.

Louis thought that it would be a lot easier to do this thing. Teenagers need to kiss, after all. Kissing is nice. It feels good. Harry had agreed to it, Harry’d said he liked it. It was fine.

But now...now it’s turned into something completely different, like practicing has just made Harry want practice with more and more and more--and he doesn’t know why he’s fucking complaining since all of this is amazing and what _any_ Alpha would wish for--but how is he supposed to keep this up with a clear conscience? How’s he supposed to keep pretending that’s all it is?

As he stares at the beautiful image of Harry just lying there in his bed, the fact hits Louis’ chest hard. He realizes he truly, truly, truly wants to be with Harry. Together together. And it won’t happen.

Some time later, Harry eventually tip-toes back to his own room, and he eats cereal next to Louis at the kitchen island the next morning. Louis’s just so confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awkward kidz


	19. you got me sick

“You’re gonna have to tell me more details than that if you want any type of comment from me.”

Will opens his window and flicks his lighter to the tip of the joint he’s just expertly rolled, and Harry just watches, amused that just about everybody he knows smokes weed these days except himself.

“I’ve told you the details,” Harry answers.

“No, you haven’t.”

“Well,” Harry retaliates, “I think I was really...graphic...just now. What more did you want?”

“More than what you just said.” Will leans his head out his window and exhales a big puff of smoke into the air outside before looking at Harry with a wince on his face and coughing. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“When does it ever?”

“Doesn’t make sense why you’re _worried._  If you’d just stop being so weird about it you’d realize it’s not a big deal. So you guys dry-humped.” Will starts coughing again. “How’s that even a problem, dude?”

Harry backs away as a skunky odor hits his face. He knows Will’s parents will be at work all day--long enough for Will to air out his room--but he still thinks it’s pretty ballsy to smoke indoors. Even with the window open and three portable fans spread out around the small room. “You know that you’re smoking a joint, right? It, like, constantly burns?”

“Stop changing the subject.” Will’s eyes are starting to droop, and his voice is getting croaky. “We’re psychoanalyzing you. And how you worry about everything.”

Harry scoffs, but he ends up chuckling. “So...dry-humping’s not a big deal to you? That’s like--really, really--I know it’s not--but that was a--”

“It is a big deal, but it’s not bad. If it’s making you both feel good, how is it bad?”

“I didn’t say it was bad.”

“So....”

“I don’t know what Louis thinks about it, Will. He hasn’t said anything.”

“Well, there’s an Alpha for you, then,” Will laughs before sucking on his joint again. Even though Harry never accepts, Will holds it out to him in offering when he’s done.

Harry doesn’t know if he should finally just join in while Will or Zayn or even Niall are smoking which these days is pretty often. Maybe it’d make him calm down some. Every time he thinks he’s good, he goes right back to fretting again about the same old stuff. And it’s weird. He’s not this worried when he’s _doing_ it. For some reason, when he's actually with Louis, he never overanalyzes this much. It’s after the fact when his head is all screwed up.

But talking it all through makes him feel better. Even when Will’s being all...Will about it.

“Okay, so. Details. I told you we were in the room that I slept in the first time,” Harry explains. “Practicing.” Will rolls his eyes and Harry rolls his eyes right back. “And I already told you about that. There’s...not really more to say, I guess.”

“You rubbed nasties and creamed your underwear underneath him, yeah, I got it.”

“And he didn’t talk to me about it afterwards.”

“Because that’s not what people do.”

Harry’s quiet, and Will is, too. Eventually he says, “Look, it’s obvious he liked it because what Alpha wouldn’t? Anyway. You said there was a second time.”

“Yeah. We were in the room he was sleeping in that time.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t even know what I was doing, but I sort of reached out and touched his penis, and then he--”

Harry’s forced to stop mid-sentence. Will’s suddenly laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and it goes on so long Harry’s eyebrows meet in annoyance. “What’s so funny?”

Will cackles for long moments until Harry finally pushes him. “Stop laughing at me.”

“You said penis.”

“Well, that’s what it is.”

“No,” Will answers, finally looking at Harry. He wipes the side of his eyes and smiles. “No, Harry. Don’t call it that. That’s the most unsexy thing you can ever ever say.”

“What do you want me to call it, then? His...cock?”

Will can’t stop laughing again. “You sound so ridiculous. But much better.”

“No,” Harry argues. “I’m not doing that. Not, like--No. I literally would sound so stupid calling it that.”

“Well, you already sound stupid calling it penis, actually. _Penis._ ”

“That’s what it is!” Harry repeats louder, but he’s not mad. He starts laughing along with Will.

“You don’t fool me. I know you use the word in your head.” Will sticks his arm out the window to let his joint burn before going on, “You think about it when you’re in heat. You feel it all up on you when you kiss and--”

“Shut uppp.”

“I won’t,” Will laughs. “Would you like him talking about your asshole like...calling it your...rectum or something?”

“Ew.” Harry makes a face, but he’s laughing just as hard as Will is suddenly. Maybe he’s getting a contact high. “Will. C’mon.”

“Just say dick then.”

“Fine.”

“Even though you know you wanna say cock.”

“Just shut up,” Harry laughs again. “Stop obsessing over Louis’ dick.”

Will points to himself and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m real competition. Think about it all the time. Been wantin’ Louis for years.”

“Shut. Up.”

“You are so in love with him,” Will sings, smiling dopily. “So you jerked him off?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers. He always finds it so interesting how Will’s so casual about these things.

“And now you’re over-analyzing it,” Will goes on, a stupid smile on his face.

“Well. Yeah.”

Will holds out the joint to Harry again. It’s finally gotten so small it’s almost burning Will’s fingers. Harry pauses but decides to shake his head.

“I mean. I’m getting better at, like... _doing_ stuff like that. But we haven’t talked about it at all. At all, at all. I totally sucked.”

“Bet he wishes you actually did.” Will wags his eyebrows.

“I could barely even hold onto it, Will,” Harry says quietly even though they’re totally alone. “I bet I was the worst ever.”

“Did he knot?”

Sort of embarrassed and sort of proud, Harry nods. “I think so, at least.”

Will stubs out his joint on the window seal and then leaves the little part that’s left just laying there. “Then you didn't suck.” he says. “So did he do it to you, too?”

“Huh?”

Will makes a crude gesture with his fingers. “Did he do you, too?”

“Oh.” Harry shakes his head shyly. “No.”

“What? What the hell.”

“That’s what they’re supposed to do?”

WIll looks affronted. “If they’re in any way decent.”

“So he’s supposed to do that the same time I’m doing....him? Is that what I should’ve--?”

Will starts cracking up again.

“Will, stop. I don’t know!”

“I mean. Chill. I’m just sayin’. It’s not nice for an Alpha to not return the favor.”

“I was that bad at it.” Harry lays down in bed and puts a pillow on his head, over his face. “I must've been. It grossed him out so bad he didn't want to go on.”

“He clearly went back to practicing or whatever shit you call it.” Will lays down beside Harry and puts his hands behind his head, eyes dreamily looking at his ceiling. “Didn’t you say just this weekend you were doing it in his room again?”

“I _wish_ we were doing it,” Harry mutters as Will takes the pillow away. “He’s never gonna mate me.”

“ _Practicing_ ,” Will corrects, smacking Harry with the pillow. “Practicing in your room.”

“Yeah. But his mom knew we were in there and opened the door. Then he got all weird afterwards. Like he always does.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Like...we go forward and then we go back. We’ll hang out for, like, every night in a row sometimes, and then I won’t even see him for days. Like, at the lake, we did all that stuff, and now it’s like...nothing more. And I live in his house. I don’t understand. Who acts like that after what we did? Wouldn’t you wanna, like, talk about it? Or...I dunno...keep _doing_ it when we’re practicing?”

“First of all, you gotta stop calling it that stupid ass name. Maybe that’s why he’s so weird about it, dude.”

“Huh?”

Will clarifies, “ _Practicing_. You aren’t practicing. There’s no practice. And even if there was, you’re past that. What are you practicing now? Humping?”

“No,” Harry says miserably. “And he’s the one who came up with it in the first place.”

“Humping?”

“Practicing.” Harry frowns deeper and then gasps. “What if he’s practicing for someone else, Will? What if--”

“Harry, oh my God,” Will groans. “He’s not. It's _fine_.”

“No, it's not fine. I don't feel fine. There are feelings now. And he was supposed to--this was supposed to make him realize he maybe had feelings, too, but what if he just doesn’t?”

Will raises his eyebrows.

“It’s just--it’s getting really, really intense really quick, you know? Whenever we do anything at all. I just. I can’t control myself around him at all anymore. And I don’t want to. He wants to, but I don’t. He kept going on about how he’s afraid of getting outta control like it’s a bad thing or something. We're not getting anywhere. He’s probably not even interested like I am.”

“You worry _so much_ ”

“ _About important things_. Everyone always tells me to just initiate everything. Everything’ll be fine, just keep doing that. _Alphas like that,_  they say. But at some point wouldn’t he, like, finally get the clue, don’t you think?”

“Like, get all Alpha and initiate it with you first?”

“Yes,” Harry adamantly answers. “Which he never does.”

“Never?”

Harry shrugs.

“Yeah, I bet that’s really annoying,” Will comments. “But maybe he’s afraid of scaring you. He’s like that, you know.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “What’s that mean?”

“He’s not all…No offense, but he’s not all big and Alpha-y, you know? He’s like...softer, I guess.”

“No, he’s not,” Harry defends quietly, internally analyzing Will’s words. There’s nothing wrong with Louis. Instead, _he’s_ the weird one himself. He’s not at all small and curvy like omegas should be. Like _other_ omegas. Like Will himself.

“I’m just saying. It’s cute, I guess. But I don’t know. Maybe he thinks he’ll scare you.”

“Maybe he thinks I’m a whore.”

Will laughs. “You never even kissed anyone before him.”

“But here I am, anyway, spreading my legs for him like a tramp. Touching his pe--touching his dick.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Will repeats, closing his eyes again and smacking his dry mouth. “You like him. He likes you.”

Harry’s quiet for so long that Will looks at him in suspicion. “You don’t think he likes you?”

“Of course he _likes_ me. We’re best friends. But this is different. All of this is different. This was supposed to get him to mate me.”

After a long time of just laying there with his eyes closed like he’s asleep, Will finally looks at Harry again. “I don’t know, man. I think you’re fine, really, but I don’t know. I can only compare anything to Calvin, so. I don’t know what to tell you anymore.”

“Yeah.”

“Who, by the way, has finally stopped trying to contact me,” Will throws out. He holds up his hands and mouths, “ _Yayy_.”

“So...Is that a good thing or…?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I miss him and sometimes I just don’t wanna deal with him anymore. If you’re supposed to be mates with someone, I think you’d feel it inside, you know? You wouldn’t be able to be broken up for so long--like, separated for so so long--and not, like, be really really fucked up by it. You know? And I’m not. I’m just not.”

Harry just nods. He cuddles closer to Will, and they just lay there.

It’s strange how Will can feel nothing special for Calvin when Harry knows for a fact that Calvin can’t stand not being bonded to him. It’s just strange in general…how two people can feel two completely different ways...both not knowing what goes on in the other person’s mind.

“Anyway,” Will says, “enough with this shit. Let’s listen to music. Get you happier. You smell bad.”

“It’s probably just your weed breath floatin’ up into your nostrils.”

 

* * *

It’s nighttime on a random Thursday, and Harry’s walking home through the long streets of the fancy neighborhood he’s now lived in for the entire summer. Surrounded by huge houses, somehow it still doesn’t feel real. He lives here. However temporary it may be, he’s not taking any of it for granted because he knows his family’ll never be close to affording anything like this in his entire life. Each house he walks past looks like it costs hundreds of dollars a week just to keep up the landscaping.

His life has become so weird.

Harry’s walking in the first place because Zayn’s sister dropped him off outside the gates; the access code just changed and Harry forgot it. Who can even keep up with things like that? That’s rich people stuff. _Remembering access codes_. Then again, his memory _has_ gotten worse lately, a symptom he attributes to his new medicine. Along with many other things. Lethargy. Mood swings. Insecurity. The usual omega shit times ten.

He doesn’t accept Zayn’s offer to use his phone to call Louis because he doesn’t want to be a bother. He just always assumes Louis’s working these days. When he finally approaches the house, a happy and warm feeling spreads through his blood when he notices Louis’ car is actually in the driveway instead.

Walking straight to Louis’ bedroom without greeting anyone else inside the house, Harry steps in without knocking on the door. He catches Louis standing in the middle of the room, making random hand-gestures like he’s talking to someone, but there’s no one else around.

“What are you doing?” Harry asks, smiling.

“Oh,” Louis turns around and says in surprise. Looking down at what Harry’s wearing, he tilts his head. “Is that my shirt?”

Harry looks at himself. “Um.”

“Austin must’ve mixed up the laundry, huh. Keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

It takes all of Harry’s might not to blush. That would give away the fact that it wasn’t a laundry mix-up at all but something much more purposeful. Harry’s actually got a whole drawer full of Louis’ clothes by this point, actually. Louis’s got so many that he never notices them gone.

“I’ve been callin’ you,” Louis finally says in the form of a question.

“Sorry.” Harry looks down for a second. “Forgot the phone here.”

Louis sniffs the air. “Whatcha been doin’?”

“Nothing. Chillin’ at Zayn’s. He got a pet lizard.”

Louis makes a face. “You smell like an Alpha.”

“I’m wearing your shirt,” Harry answers in confusion.

“Another Alpha.”

Harry’s quiet. “Oh, that must be Zayn’s sister. She gave me a ride home.”

“You could’ve asked me.”

“But...Sorry, but I forgot my phone.”

Louis shakes his head playfully, but then his eyebrows draw together. “You’re sweaty.”

“...It’s hot outside.”

“Yeah. Hot in here, too,” Louis replies after some time, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the floor until he’s just wearing a plain white t-shirt.

Just then, Harry takes in the actual clothes Louis’s got on. His jeans are rolled up at the bottoms and now on the floor is a big leather jacket, and even though it’s strange, it all looks good together. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Louis looks down at his clothes and smiles. “I’m rehearsing.”

“Rehearsing?”

“Yeah. Theater-talk for practicing a play.”

Harry gives Louis a stony look. “Yes, I’m aware, thanks. But what play?”

“Grease. It’s the fall play this year, I found out.” Louis holds up a booklet. “They’re writing the script already and everything.”

“But school doesn’t even start for weeks.”

“Everything basically starts on the first day of school, but the theater club gets started earlier. Friend of mine gave me a copy of the lines they’re already workin’ on.”

Harry’s eyes get big. “Ooh. So you’re probably gonna try out for Danny Zuko.”

Louis steps closer, looking down at his fingernails. “Kind of a big deal.”

Harry grins. “Yeah. Lead of the play.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Louis mutters, raising his eyebrows at the ground. When he looks back up, he’s smiling a bit, but his muscles are sort of flexed like he’s anxious.

Harry’s left sort of awe-struck just from how tight the shirt is, how nice it makes Louis’ arms look, and he softly gets out, “I’m sure you’ll get the part.”

“I dunno. Good competition this year. Try-outs aren’t until mid-September, though, so I’ve got tons of time.” Louis ends up shrugging, but Harry knows he’s feeling sort of nervous because his eyes aren’t as crinkly and his lips look a certain way. Not like he’s frowning, but sort of. Harry’s gotten to examine Louis’ lips quite a bit lately. It’s weird he can tell his mood now just by looking at them.

Staring too long makes Harry’s thoughts wander. “So, uh. Did you…did you want me to go?”

“No,” Louis says quickly.

Harry nods, looking around the room awkwardly. Louis’s so messy it drives Harry crazy sometimes. He reaches out to slide a few gum-wrappers and other bits of trash from atop Louis’ desk into the trash can directly beside it. “Well, um. What d’you wanna do? Do you need help?”

“What do’ya mean?” Louis asks in the middle of a yawn. “You gonna quiz me?”

“Well, no, but like--Like, I could read the other person's lines and then you say your lines to me. Isn’t that how you actually rehearse? I know I won't be as good as the real people, but maybe I could help.”

“No, yeah. That's a good idea. We should do that.”

“Cool. Lemme see.”

Louis hands the script to Harry and tells him, “You keep it. I’ll do my lines by memory. But you already know the story, anyway, right?”

Harry gives him a stoic look like Louis hadn't made him watch the film, like, every summer since second grade.

“Right,” Louis chuckles. He flips the paper in Harry's hands to just a few pages in. “So this scene is right where Danny and Sandy see each other at school after their summer together, and it's honestly the hardest freakin’ part ‘cause I have to act but not overact, you know? I've gotta make it believable that I'm surprised to see her but make it clear that I'm tryin’ to keep it cool in front of the guys, too. While still actually being cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, you're secretly in love with me but don't wanna show it in front of your friends.”

Louis stares at Harry. “What?”

“Danny. He's in love with Sandy but doesn’t want to show it.”

“Oh.” Louis looks down at the floor. “Right.”

“So, uh. What...what did you want me to do?”

“I'll start.” Louis points to the other side of his room. “You're gonna be over there walking with the Pink Ladies ‘cause Frenchy just introduced you to everyone and you just did that song at lunchtime.”

“Summer lovin’ had me a blast!”

“Beautiful voice as always, Haz,” Louis says before continuing to explain the scene. “And she's gonna kind of shove you, so that's how you walk in front of me.”

“Gotcha.” Harry’s eyes skim the page, and he pauses. “Are these lines from the original play or something? This isn't what they say in the movie.”

“They’re re-writing it to make it more modern-sounding. But it's still set in the fifties, so. Explain that one to me.”

“Ohh. It’s like the Romeo and Juliet with Leonardo DiCaprio. But in reverse?”

“Huh?”

Harry gives it a few moments for Louis to get the reference before scoffing. “Seriously? And you call yourself an actor.”

“Can’t help it that you’re smarter than me.”

“I’m not--”

“You ready?”

“Yes,” Harry concedes. He bats his eyelashes and holds his hair back out of his face. “Do I look pretty enough to be Sandy?”

Louis smiles. “Absolutely.”

“Okay. Here goes. You know I’m not good at this stuff, so don't laugh at me.”

“Never.”

After an awkward few seconds, Harry sort of stutters his feet forward like he's being pushed and then stops before Louis, dropping his mouth before covering it and grinning. “Danny!”

Louis’ entire face brightens. “Sandy!”

Harry starts laughing uncontrollably, ruining the scene. “Sorry, sorry.” He walks back to his position. “Sorry. Lemme try again. Wait, you were supposed to say ‘Sandy’ first and _then_ I say ‘Danny,’ right?”

“It’s okay.”

“Oops.”

When he tries it a second time, Harry’s much better.

“It's, it’s you!” he exclaims to Louis awkwardly, trying to sound excited but not stupid.

Louis steps closer to him, his eyes traveling down to Harry’s feet and then all the way up his body until he reaches Harry's eyes again.

“What are you--?!” Louis suddenly looks over his shoulder and his grin falls as he takes a step back and shifts his weight back and forth on his legs. His voice gets deeper as he says, “I mean, hey. I thought you said you were going back to school in Iowa.”

Harry stares at the paper in his hands. After visibly reading his lines, he scrunches up his face in confusion. “We had a change of plans. My dad got a new job.”

“Cool, cool.” Louis runs a spare hand through his hair before reaching in his back pocket to pull out a cigarette pack. Taking out a cigarette, he gestures to the wall to his right--the school, apparently. “Guess I'll see ya around then.”

As he puts the cigarette in between his lips, he struts towards the bedroom door and makes motions like he’s talking to other people.

Louis disappears out into the hallway for a second and then walks back into the bedroom. With the cigarette now behind his ear, he looks at Harry expectantly. “Okay,  that was quick, but how was it?”

Harry lowers his script. “Completely believable. You were a total douche.”

Louis barks out a laugh. “Danny's not a douche. He's just…”

“A mini-douche?”

“Easily influenced by his friends,” Louis corrects. “C’mon, Haz. He’s Danny Zuko.”

“Whatever.” Harry shrugs. “But really, if you can, maybe you should suggest to do the play like it’s supposed to be. Like, have them change the lines. They sound weird. If everyone’s really gonna be dressed up like the fifties but talkin’ like now, I think it’ll be confusing. No offense.”

“None taken.” Louis smiles. “I’ve always liked that you speak your mind.”

Harry blinks. He thinks it’s funny that he actually has a billion things running through his mind all the time yet speaks only a fraction of them in front of Louis. “Yeah.”

“You'd be so good at drama, Haz. You should try out for this. Maybe you'll make a part.”

“When pigs fly, maybe,” Harry remarks. “I’m too stupid--”

“Don’t say that about yourself. Really, you’re good.”

“I said, like, ten words.”

“Doesn't matter. You’ve got potential. Plus, you can sing. You could get casted on that fact alone.”

Harry shyly smiles. “I don’t think I could do something like that in front of the whole school.”

Louis steps closer and stares in Harry’s eyes. “You could. You’d be up there with me.”

It’s really weird how stifling eye-contact with Louis can be sometimes. When it gets intense but doesn’t lead to anything, Harry has to break it eventually, but his eyes don’t go far. Spotting a distraction, he reaches for the cigarette behind Louis’ ear and puts it to his mouth.

“Gotta light?” he asks with it in between his lips.

Louis just stares at him. “And since when do you smoke?”

Harry shrugs. “Since forever. I’m bad to the bone.”

Louis removes the cigarette from Harry’s mouth. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Maybe I should start smoking. Everyone else does it.”

“You’re too original to do something just ‘cause everyone else does it,” Louis says, finishing his sentence with a little wink.

Harry shrugs. “Maybe I just wanna see what it’s like.”

“No.”

“You do it,” Harry says defiantly.

Louis puts the cigarette back into his pack and then puts the pack in the back pocket of his jeans. “Doesn’t mean you should.”

Harry’s done trying to act out. It never gets him attention anyway. He plops on the end of Louis’ mattress in frustration and crosses his arms. “Did you wanna keep practicing or what? What did you wanna do?”

Louis steps closer. “I was thinking...maybe...we could practice something else.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise, and he looks at Louis’ face just in time to see a smirk cover it. He’s not expecting it when Louis sits next to him and places his mouth directly on his own, hand on his jaw. His sticky, sweaty skin doesn’t feel so gross when Louis’s touching it.

  


* * *

 

  
“Why is literally everyone you hang out with rich?” Will mutters, looking around Zayn’s house as they step inside from the garage. He’s walking behind Harry lugging a large and heavy bag on the crook of his arm.

Harry gives him a funny look.

“Well, not you,” Will corrects. “But you might as well be. You’re gonna mate into it.”

“Yeah, right,” Harry mumbles. “But, anyway, Zayn got a settlement when we were kids. An Alpha pushed him into Louis’ pool at a birthday party and he almost drowned. They sued.”

“Whoa…”

“Yeah,” Harry replies, leading the way up the stairs to Zayn’s bedroom. “I thought you knew.”

“Zayn’s a little secretive bitch,” Will answers, just in time for Harry to open Zayn’s bedroom door.

Harry walks inside first, noticing Zayn sitting on his bed and Niall lounging in a chair by the corner. He greets them both before side-eyeing Will. In clear suspicion, Will gazes back and forth between Zayn and Niall, but no one says anything. Harry knows what Will’s thinking, anyway, even though he’s explained it tons of times. _Niall’s not like other Alphas. It’s not weird hanging out alone with him._

Well, it wouldn’t _usually_ be weird hanging out alone with Niall. If it weren’t on this particular day at this particular time. Not when they’ve been invited here for a very _particular_ reason. Harry wonders when Zayn’s going to kick Niall out.

Judging from the smell of the room, they’ve very clearly just gotten finished smoking, so maybe that’s why Zayn’s stalling. He gets even more quiet when he’s high.

“What’s up?” Harry asks to the room at large, wringing his hands as he takes a seat on the bed next to Zayn.

“Chillin’,” Niall says, shrugging. He’s texting someone on his phone. After a few moments, he puts it in his pocket. “So that party next week,” he starts, looking at the three omegas. “Y’all still in?”

“Yeah,” Will answers for Harry. Zayn shrugs.

“If we can get a ride,” Harry corrects. “It’s forever away.”

“You can ride with me,” Niall says easily. “No prob.”

“What kind of party is it, anyway?” Will asks. “Didn’t you say it takes, like, an hour to get there?”

Niall nods. “It’s on this dude-I-know’s brother’s farm.”

“Ooh, a _farm_ party,” Will says, eyes wide.

“Yee-haw,” Zayn adds, laughing quietly.

“You’ve got the biggest network of friends I think that’s ever existed,” Will tells Niall.

“I do get around,” Niall says, winking. “Actually, there’s a party at my buddy’s house over by the river tonight if you wanna go. What’re you guys gettin’ into? ”

Everyone looks at each other awkwardly. “I’ve already got stuff to do,” Harry says at the same time that Zayn says, “No real plans.”

As Niall’s looking at them all strangely, Will takes this very opportunity to dump the contents of the bag he’s been holding onto the floor. A bunch of bananas and cucumbers fall out everywhere.

“Aw, _yum,_ ” Niall enthuses, immediately crouching down for a banana. He peels it and takes a bite. “Mmm.”

“Well, thanks,” Will says sarcastically. “We needed that.”

“Needed it for what?” Niall asks with his mouth full.

“Maybe it’s time for you to go, man,” Zayn pipes up.

Niall stares at the floor with huge eyes. “What are y’all about to do?”

Zayn shrugs. “Nothing.”

Niall looks intrigued. “This is what omegas do together? What do you do, though? Like, stick them up your butts? Do you share one?”

Harry holds up his hands for Niall to stop. “Nooo. Nothing like that.”

“What the hell, Niall?” Will pipes up. “I don’t even want to know why that’s the first thing that entered your brain.”

“Then what?”

Harry’s face turns red. “Well...”

“There’s other people coming over,” Zayn explains. “It’s sort of like a class. No big deal. This girl my sister knows teaches it to omegas.”

Niall looks at Zayn blankly. “For…”

“For sucking dick, Niall,” Will dryly supplants.

Niall flings his body back on the chair and claps his hands loudly together. Laughing hysterically, he sits back up and says, “No way. No way! This is seriously not about to happen. What, you’re all gonna be sitting in a room sucking on these things in front of each other?”

“It’s just, like. Techniques,” Harry answers lamely.

“Do you all get on your knees and--”

“Cut it out, Niall,” Zayn says. “Please. You’re making Harry feel bad.”

“Harry,” Niall looks at him and says, grinning, “you know I’m not bein’ mean. Do your thing. Learn your...techniques.”

Harry just blushes.

“I’ll let you make fun of my name again like you used to if it makes you feel better.”

“I never used to make fun of your name,” Harry retaliates at the same time Will’s saying, “Do it, Harry, it’s not your fault his parents named him after some, like, British librarian--”

Just then, the doorbell rings.

“This’ll be where I leave,” Niall says, standing up. He chuckles to himself as he walks out the bedroom door, Zayn following him. “Have fun.”

“This is a dumb idea, Will,” Harry mumbles, collapsing on the bed and crossing his arms. “Why did I ever agree to this?”

Will hops on the bed next to him and begins bouncing up and down. “‘Cause you need to make dat money. Get dat bite mark.”

Harry covers his eyes with his hands and shakes his head. “Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

“Come on, Harry, don’t worry about what Niall says,” Will urges. “He doesn’t get it.”

Will moves Harry’s hands from his face. “One day he will get it, though,” he adds. “One day when he has someone slobber all over his prick, scrape it up a few times, then throw up all on on it... Then he’ll understand.”

Harry drops his mouth. “Good God. That happens?”

“Alphas have big cocks.”

Harry shakes his head at himself again. “This is ridiculous…”

Will nudges Harry with his elbow. “Bet Louis won’t think it’s ridiculous.”

The corners of Harry’s mouth lift. He lays his head on Will’s shoulder. “I hope not,” he laughs.

“Think of it as practice,” Will tells him innocently.

“Well. I do need all I can get.”

“Shut _up_. You could probably bite the damn thing _off_ and he’d still like you. Speaking of--what the hell is going on with Niall and Zayn? I thought--”

The door opens, and Harry looks up at a big group of omegas that come giggling into the room a few minutes later. He remains hidden in the background throughout the entire thing, not really talking, but luckily he’s taller than all of the others, so even sitting on his knees behind everyone still gives him a good view of what Doniya’s friend is teaching and what Will is adding in, too.

About two hours later, when Zayn’s room has cleared out of both the half-dozen omegas that had been invited over and of the smoke from the two bowls they had passed around, it’s down to just Will, Zayn, and Harry again. Harry thinks he’s the only one who’s clear-headed, but he can’t be sure. Not after how much smoke he’s breathed in. And with all the new images floating around his head.

Will grins, rubbing his lips. “I forgot what that was even like. I miss it. Maybe I should go back to males.”

Zayn is quiet as Harry rubs his jaw unconsciously. He’d chosen to use a cucumber because he thought it was more realistic than a banana, but now his mouth is extremely sore and his lips are tingling and numb. Even his throat hurts. And it’s not like he crammed it down in there or anything.

“Gotta pee,” Will says, standing up. He stumbles a bit as he walks across the room. “Damn, I smoked too much.”

“Harry,” Zayn whispers when Will’s out the room, “I didn’t wanna say anything in front of everyone, but you’re sorta startin’ to smell. Did you know?”

Harry feels his face heat up immediately, and he adjusts his pants. “Already?”

“Yeah.” Zayn nods.  “You need me to take you home?”

“No,” Harry declines. “It’s not--it won’t be for a while.”

“Oh, you have it on a schedule now, that’s right,” Zayn says lazily. “Well, damn. This prob’ly just made it worse, though, didn’t it?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harry reassures. He looks down, fighting a smile.

“...What’s with your face?”

Harry holds his hand out, and his fingers look long and all spread out as he explains, “So...I sort of have a plan. Wanna hear?”

“...What kind of plan?”

“If my calculations are right from this stupid medicine I’m on,” Harry counts on his fingers and starts explaining, “it should happen around Saturday evening and prob’ly crest by, like...midnight? Maybe eleven? The pills are supposed to make it predictable like that.”

“But that’s the night of the party. I thought you said you were goin’.”

Harry bites the side of his mouth and looks at Zayn expectantly. All the smoke from earlier has made him light-headed and feeling suddenly goofy.

“What d’you mean, _you sort of have a plan?_ That’s not a plan. That's a fucking death wish, man.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry argues. “It’s a good opportunity.”

“To be attacked, maybe. A quarter of the school’s gonna be invited to this thing.”

“Including Louis.”

“Yeah, but older Alphas’ll be everywhere. Even the seniors who just graduated and are about to go to college and shit. And it’s on a _farm._  You know that, right? There won’t be anywhere to go unless you get a ride home from someone, and everyone’s crashing there ‘cause they’re gettin’ kegs and shit.”

“But I’m on these pills now. It shouldn’t even be that strong when it happens.”

“It was last time, you said.”

“But I just started the pills then. This won’t be like that.”

Zayn’s quiet for a while, but he eventually mumbles, “Even if it’s not strong it’s still gonna happen.”

“And Louis will be around when it does,” Harry simply answers.

“So, what? You’re gonna try to party until it hits? With all those other Alphas around? And then wait for Louis to smell it and claim you or something?”

Harry smiles. “I’m--Look, tell me if you think this is a stupid idea, okay?”

“It is a stupid idea. It is most definitely a stupid idea.” Zayn shakes his head, voice lazy. “I’ve gone through a whole bag of weed just today but even I can tell you it’s stupid, man. You’re gonna be in public.”

“Louis’s been sort of...better this week.” Harry scoots closer to Zayn. “Like, hovering around me more. He’s even been kissing me without me, like, having to give him hints and stuff. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn’t. But point is--it’s getting to him this time. I know it. So he’s gonna be right next to me at the party all night, too, I’m sure, and then, all I gotta do is offer to go somewhere alone after a few drinks so we can practice--”

Zayn mutters under his breath, “This practice bullshit--”

“And then before it really, _really_ hits, we’re already away from the party and it’ll be fine.”

Zayn looks skeptically at Harry until Harry’s uncomfortable.

“What do you think the point of me coming here today was even for, Z?” he asks, adjusting his pants again. “It’s all...I have a plan. I’m gonna try to really do it and want it to be good...Your sister’s friend said if you do the thing with your hand and your tongue at the same time it makes Alphas lose their mind.”

“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles. “She would know.”

“And then right around eleven or twelve,” Harry finishes, “ _boom_. I’m in heat. And soon after, I’m no longer a virgin and I’m mated to Louis.”

While Harry looks pleased with himself, Zayn’s face is still unimpressed. “That’s manipulation.”

“Well, Louis doesn’t take a freaking clue, Zayn, and everyone says I need to be in his face about it.”

“What’s more in his face than sticking your ass in his face, huh?”

“Exactly!”

“You’re playing with fire, dude. You sure this is how you want to lose it?”

“Next week, this same time,” Harry replies, smiling, “just watch. I’ll have a big bond mark on my throat. I’ll smell like Louis. I’ll smell like I’m his. ‘Cause I will be.”

Zayn shakes his head.

 

* * *

 

Harry, Zayn, and Will stand close together as they slowly walk around on flat, thick grass. There’s a thick and humid feeling in the air, and the sound of crickets is louder than the distant music playing.

They got a ride to the party with one of Niall’s older friends, but Niall’s already been stopped by two different groups of people back in the field where all the cars are parked and is now nowhere to be found. Harry’s left to try to find other people he knows just by slowly heading from place to place, scoping everything out while pretending to not look painfully lost. Luckily, the sun has completely set so he and the others don’t look too stupid.

Up ahead, Harry sees about ten pickup trucks circled around a giant burning pile of sticks and debris. Various people sit on the tailgates of the trucks with red plastic cups in their hands, and others just stand around talking.

“Do we know any of them?” Harry asks.

“Not likely,” Will answers.

Harry strains to look at their faces. He guesses Will’s right. He follows him and Zayn as they walk around a giant house that’s in the middle of the property. From the amount of people hanging out on the porch or just grouped around in the grass in various spots, Harry assumes no one’s allowed inside it. They finally reach a barn that appears to be the spot where tons of people have begun congregating already, but the faces outside under strings of bright light bulbs are still unrecognizable. There’s definitely no Louis anywhere.

Everyone that Harry passes seems to be dressed in pretty regular clothes. He looks down at himself and then taps Will’s shoulder for his attention. “Do I look stupid?”

“Only you would find cowboy boots to wear to this thing.”

“But do I look okay?” Harry asks again, getting no answer. Will’s looking around for other people he knows. Zayn’s got a permanent grossed-out look on his face from the smell of manure that keeps wafting around the air.

“I thought they looked cute with the jean shorts,” Harry finishes lamely. He frowns again, looking at the long-sleeved plaid button-up that he’d chosen to wear over his white shirt. He bets he looks ridiculous.

“They can't be serious with this music,” Zayn mumbles as they get closer.

Will chuckles. “Yeah, it’s pretty shitty.”

“I dunno,” Harry says, straining his neck to look inside the barn. “I could dig it.”

Will rolls his eyes and walks ahead of the group. Zayn and Harry lag behind.

“How you doin’?” Zayn asks Harry quietly as they slowly walk around back of the barn. Harry thinks they’re about to walk inside the back door to it until he sees Zayn immediately approach a tree where a trough full of ice and beer sits free-for-the-taking.

“Weirdly fine,” Harry answers, frowning. “I might’ve been wrong about everything. I don’t really feel any different.”

“Well, good news is--if you do go in heat, no one’ll be able to tell ‘cause of the smell of all the shit at this place.” Zayn holds out a beer for Harry.

Harry holds up a hand. “I’m not drinking tonight.”

“Not even one?”

Harry shrugs and reluctantly accepts the beer from Zayn. “I mean, I guess I could have just one.” When he opens the can, it sprays all over the place, and Zayn cracks up, clearly having just shaken it.

Harry playfully hits Zayn in the stomach, causing him to bend over with the force of it, and it’s then that Harry notices Liam approaching Zayn from out of nowhere. He makes no move to touch Zayn but immediately flashes his eyes at Harry, and Harry gasps and looks down.

Zayn stands up straight, smiling, but frowns when he looks at Harry’s face. He notices Liam and hisses. “Stop. It’s just Harry.”

“He hit you.”

Zayn reaches out and smacks the side of Harry’s head. “And now we’re even.”

“Heyyy,” Harry retaliates.

Liam stares at Zayn, reluctantly smiles, and then looks to Harry. “Where’s Louis?”

As he helps himself to a new beer, Harry realizes too late that Liam’s talking to him. “Oh. I don’t know. He had to work tonight, but I don’t know when he gets off. But he’ll be here. He might be here already. I don’t really...” Harry trails off as he continues to look around.

“Oh, look,” Zayn interrupts, looking around, too. “Amanda’s here.”

Harry looks up and sees Will with his...Harry doesn’t know what she is. Will’s _date,_ he guesses, since Will refuses to call her anything else serious. Harry watches as the two of them get closer, then he looks at Liam and Zayn together, and then he stares at the grass. He’s the only one who doesn’t have a date. He really hopes Louis shows up soon.

“Who’s that Alpha by the barn?” Liam asks.

Zayn follows Liam’s line of sight. “Where?”

“Blonde hair, tall.”

“His name’s Preston,” Harry answers, looking in the same direction and making a face.

“He’s staring at you, you know,” Liam tells Harry.

Harry shakes his head and moodily brings the beer can to his lips. As he and Preston meet eyes, he looks away. “No, he’s just staring.”

“Yes. At you.”

“Whatever.”

“Seriously. He’s checking you out.”

Harry rolls his eyes when he lowers the beer from his mouth. “Checking me out?”

“Are you just gonna repeat whatever I say? And y’all say people from the south are dumb. Get a clue. He’s been watching you. It was so obvious I had to see what he was lookin’ at and then I noticed Zayn here.”

“Well.” Harry shrugs. “Maybe he was lookin’ at Zayn.”

Liam stands closer to Zayn. “Doubt that.”

Zayn doesn’t respond, and Harry has to smile at the situation. He already feels silly after just a few sips of beer. “Where are you from, anyway? You sound like you’re from a movie.”

Liam smiles. “What does that even mean? You know I’m from Birmingham.”

“You’re from a place _outside_ of Birmingham that has more dirt roads than paved ones,” Zayn corrects.

Liam shrugs. “So I feel right at home here.”

“Wherever we even are,” Zayn mumbles.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s in the middle of the barn, in the middle of a bunch of people, in the middle of a dance he doesn’t know. After being the sixth wheel for too long, he’s given up on abstaining from drinking because he’s not having any fun otherwise. He hasn’t kept count of how much he’s drank tonight, but he knows it’s not been too too much. Still, his limbs are wobbly and his body’s loose, and the music is fun.

Instead of the dancing Harry’s used to seeing--people smushed up close--none of the people at this party are touching. Instead, they’re moving their feet and clapping while swaying around, and what’s funny is that no one’s movements seem to match even though Harry gets the impression that they should. That makes him happy. He’s been doing his own thing for a long time, and besides random people dancing around him and accidentally brushing against him, no one’s really paid him any mind. Woo.

It’s not until he breaks away from the group to get some fresh air that it happens, the first real signal he’s had the entire week. A twinge--a sort of pulling sensation inside his belly that’s like a lightning flash of painful pleasure--runs straight down to his groin, and he stumbles immediately, holding his hand out in front of him to reach out for the splintery barn wall, for anything. His mouth falls open and his vision spots in and out before condensing down to just a pinprick of sight and then finally... nothing.

As he stands unseeing, a feeling like a genuine hot flash beginning inside his core and radiating outwards to his fingers and toes creeps throughout him, and it’s the weirdest, scariest thing to feel it come on this quickly. He’s _hot._  He’s really, really hot.

Clearly, he knew his heat was coming tonight. Well, he _figured_ it would come tonight, but now it’s real. If _Louis_ would just get here already, he would be fine. But now, blinking until his vision comes back, all Harry can think about is how Louis _isn’t_ here, how his insides are literally starting to burn, and how stupid he was to come out tonight in the first place.

His heats are always...different than this. They start slowly, beginning with an ache he can feel for hours or sometimes days as it grows and grows, and he’s always able to go someplace alone by the time he knows it’s irreversible. Now he’s not so sure that’s even possible. Oh, _what_ did he get himself into?

Just as quickly as the feeling hits, however, it clearly subsides, and Harry’s grabbed in the arm by Will before he can get lost in all the different sensations passing through his body at once.

“Take a shot with me,” Will yells, not realizing he’s scared the shit out of Harry as he giggles and does a funny jig with his feet. “Dance.”

“I don’t think I should drink much more,” Harry slurs like he’s sleepy. He scratches his neck. The heat that had just rampaged his body has now mysteriously gone, leaving him covered in a chilly sweat. “I’ve already had a few beers.”

“Life of the party!” exclaims Will. “Slow it down, Superman.”

Harry keeps rubbing his neck with his hand. “I... I need to go outside...”

“Hey, your nose is bleeding,” Will comments.

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, bringing a hand up to his face. He takes the button-up shirt he’s wrapped around his waist and daps his nose with a sleeve.

“It’s, like, barely there, but you have blood inside. I can see it.”

“That’s...gross.” Harry wipes his nose with the back of his hand just for good measure. “Sorry.”

As he and Will walk outside together, Harry can breathe a bit better. He doesn’t trust his body anymore, though. “Where’s Louis?” he asks in vain.

“Call him!” Will just says, smiling as he picks up a beer from dances back to the barn.

“There isn’t any reception here.” Harry gripes even though Will can’t hear.

Harry would follow Will back to the barn after getting another beer to cool himself off, but he doesn’t want to dance. He doesn’t want to even stand up anymore. He doesn’t want to walk. He doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to sit right here and drink his beer and wait to be found by Louis. This sucks. He’s halfway done with his drink when an older guy sits next to him without invitation.

“Well, hey,” he tells Harry. Like they’re friends.

Harry doesn’t look up but can tell it’s an Alpha, and he’s smiling nicely.  “Hi.”

“Where’d you get your drink?” the Alpha asks.

“Um. Just there.” Harry points to the trough that’s on the other side of the tree.

“Did you need another one?”

“Oh.” Harry shakes his head. His voice is really starting to slur. “No. I’m fine.”

The Alpha offers something else, getting into Harry’s space. “Want some gum?”

Harry stares at the guy’s hand with his mouth stupidly open. “Sure.”

After Harry puts the gum in his mouth, he sits awkwardly quiet, chewing. The Alpha still hasn’t gone away.

“Has anyone ever told you you have a pretty mouth?” he finally asks, and it’s then that Harry gets up. He walks as quickly as he can into the shadows beyond the barn, and when he’s in the dark, he walks even further.

Now in the field again, it’s hard to see anything at all. The bonfire in the distance is roaring high and heavy, but there are groups of people everywhere, blocking out its light. Harry walks and walks and walks, each face a blur as he passes. No Louis. He blacks out more than once, wincing as his stomach twinges with painful heat contractions once more, and he could cry. His feet are so sweaty he rips the boots off them and throws them in the grass. He’s starting to burn up from the inside out again, his armpits and back and nape now completely damp.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees a tall Alpha and notices that he’s looking at him as he’s breezing by, his eyes moving over his form in a way that’s uncomfortable. Harry tries not to panic as he keeps walking barefoot. He’s started dripping sweat down into crevices, or maybe he’s started to leak already, but he definitely can’t walk properly anymore, and he whimpers under his breath.

When the Alpha begins to follow him, Harry can sense it. He shouts out his name, and Harry just walks quicker before glancing over his shoulder. It’s Preston. Preston, the mean and stupid boy who used to chase him on the playground when they were kids. Now it’s a very similar situation but with completely different circumstances.

Harry looks around, now panicked knowing he’s gonna have to go out into the woods like an animal. And he’s gonna have to go in there really really deep for him not to be followed or smelled. Maybe he can steal someone’s car keys and drive away. But he doesn’t even know how to drive. He whimpers more.

“Harry!” Preston keeps shouting, and Harry starts to run, breathing heavily. His pants are getting wet, and now everything feels that way because of how thick and humid the air is on his skin. “Hey, Harry!”

Harry somehow manages to get way ahead of him, maybe even losing him in the dark, but when his arm is grabbed, he legitimately screams. He turns around and rips himself from the hand attached to him, but it won’t let go. Harry’s nails have already grown at this point, so he begins scratching what he can, slashing at the air until something inside him tells him to calm down and stop, so he does.

He looks up when his entire body inadvertently stills. It’s Louis.

Harry can’t see much, but Louis’s holding a hand up. “Whoa, whoa--It’s just me.”

Harry stands stock still, panting, and he closes his eyes.

“Just me.”

Harry quickly nods. When the knowledge hits him that he’s finally safe, he’s so relieved that he leans forward and throws his arms around Louis. “Oh, thank God.”

Louis smells so delicious Harry never wants to let go. He wraps his leg around Louis’ calf and his arms around Louis’ waist, crooking them up his back so his hands are grabbing at Louis’ shoulders, and suddenly they’re a tangle of limbs as Harry starts kissing Louis’ neck and jawbone and cheek.

“You’re sweatin’ bullets,” Louis says, chuckling despite his confusion. “What’s goin’ on, Harry?”

Harry doesn’t answer. He finally has met Louis’ mouth with his own, sinking into his wonderful Louis-taste, soothed by the brilliant feeling of their bodies pressed together. Nothing can ever describe or compare to how his heart feels when he’s with him.

“Where have you _been_?” Harry asks, mouth still pressed to Louis’. His mouth tastes like honey, like cough syrup, and Harry licks his lips and goes back in. Now his body is shivering, feeling Louis’ hands on his hips. He can’t keep up with what’s going on inside him any longer. His temperature keeps changing, and he’s throbbing in places he can’t control.

“Looking for you.”

Harry swipes his wet hair off his forehead before closing his eyes and urgently pressing his lips back to Louis’. “Me too.”

"Chill for a second." Louis chuckles as he kisses Harry back. “Why've you been runnin’?”

Harry mumbles a nonsensical response. He _was_ running, but he’s okay now. He starts moving his lips to shut Louis up. His face is so relaxed he feels like he’s permanently smiling into the kiss. When a sharp quiver hits his stomach and spreads down to in between his legs, his mouth falls open in a moan, and he juts his hips into Louis’ pelvis.

“Mm!” Louis lets out in surprise.

Suddenly, Harry realizes exactly how close he and Louis actually are, and, standing in the middle of an open field, he can feel Louis’ body heat bleed into him even with their clothes on. It could still be his own body, actually. It’s close to that time. Or...it is that time. It’s...it’s something. Louis’ breath against his face is making him dizzy. He doesn’t know how to really handle this now.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

Harry’s bouncing on his feet now, clenching his legs together. “Somewhere alone.”

“We’re already alone,” Louis tells him. His voice sounds seductive. “Aren’t we?” As Louis slides his hands under Harry’s shirt to the small of his back and moves his mouth to start kissing and biting Harry’s ear, Harry doesn’t have to think.  His body is starting to really hurt again, so he tries to just enjoy the feeling. He widens his eyes to keep them from slipping shut, blinking quickly in succession, and it’s then that Louis backs away a bit.

“Hey. You drunk?”

Harry shakes his head. He doesn’t think he’s drunk. He tries to speak, tries to say “just really hot,” but Louis’ lips are suddenly on his again, and it makes him forget what he was gonna say. Standing there unmoving and feeling Louis kiss him starts to both quench and reignite the sudden fire inside him--it’s fixing the feeling, but it’s creating a new, more intense flame right behind it. So Harry’s arms grip Louis tighter and his mouth falls against his, lips just moving with no grace now, but they’re joined, and that’s all Harry cares about. Louis’ open-mouthed kisses. Louis holding onto his body. _Really_ holding onto his body. Finally. It feels so good Harry could die. He needs to lay down.

”Oh--” Harry’s knees abruptly buckle, and he clutches Louis’ shoulders, gasping.

“Shit, Harry. You’re drunk.”

Harry shakes his head. “We--we need to go,” he slurs.

His vision starts to go in and out again, and everything inside his pants feels squishier as he focuses on Louis’ fingers. Louis’ voice. It’s hard to focus. There are people around them talking now, or it sounds like they’re around. Making funny noises. He thinks it’s directed towards him.

“What is it?” Louis repeats. “You can’t stand up.”

“I just missed you, is all,” Harry admits softly, not meeting Louis’ gaze as he feels his eyes droop. He thinks about dropping to his knees right here. Right now. Unzipping Louis’ pants with his teeth and doing it in the middle of the party. Closing his eyes, opening his mouth, sticking out his tongue just a little. But Louis kisses him again before he can get to the grass.

This kiss is intense and overwhelming. When Louis pries Harry’s lips open to deepen it, there’s a brief moment where Harry feels like he’s floating, not able to remember anything except how good it feels to be just like this. How good it is to feel wanted. He hears himself start to trill.

Harry returns the kisses vigorously this time, full consciousness hitting him in spurts, until Louis moans in his mouth. His hands slide over Harry’s hips, and Harry breaks the kiss, gasping again. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“We need to go,” Harry says again urgently, this time taking Louis’ hand to literally drag him away. The urge to be completely alone with Louisoitweighd all else. He wishes he was home. He wishes he were in Louis’ bed.

Louis starts walking behind Harry briskly. “Slow down, Haz.”

Harry whimpers under his breath, having no clue where to go. This far away from the party, everything is too dark.

“Let’s go to my car,” Louis tells him, finally catching up to Harry and starting to lead the way. Because he’s such a good Alpha. He listens to Harry. He leads Harry. He takes care of Harry.

Stumbling almost blindly beside Louis while holding his hand is one of the last things Harry can remember.

 

* * *

 

Random vehicles are parked in the long strips of dirt Louis walks along on the way to his car, all the owners elsewhere partying. But Louis doesn’t really care about the party anymore, not that he really even did to start with because he was so fucking lost the entire time with no cell service.

Everything’s all about Harry right now, and really, it always has been. Regardless of the fact that they just found each other in weird circumstances and have barely spoken in greeting, this was bound to happen tonight. Wishful thinking, maybe. But the three shots of whiskey Louis’d taken from some random Alpha earlier have made him feel empowered.

And that was his goal. It’s just a pleasant surprise that Harry seems to be on the same wavelength as he himself is. Not too drunk. Just drunk enough.

Harry’s hand is sweaty inside Louis’, and as they approach Louis’ car he makes a strange humming noise in his throat before crawling  inside the back when Louis opens the door for him. It’s not until Louis gets inside behind him and shuts the door that he’s really hit by the odor. Harry’s odor.

It’s like he’s just run into a brick wall. Harry smells...intoxicating. Louis’s already sorta drunk, but this is...a lot more than anything alcohol-induced.

“Fuck,” he mutters, mouth salivating. He can’t help it.

He immediately follows Harry to the very side of the backseat and tries to get as close as they just were outside, wrapping a hand around the small of Harry’s back and putting a hand on his hip. They sit there close together, panting and excited already, and Harry arches like a feline against the seat.

“You look really hot tonight,” Louis says, mouth betraying his thoughts. But fuck it. They’re drunk. He can say these things. And...whatever. Harry’s hot. “You know that?”

“I am hot,” Harry says quietly, moving to straddle Louis.

“You are hot,” Louis whispers back, watching Harry in awe. He’s smiling stupidly up at him as he settles himself over the hardness trapped in his shorts.

They’re in an awkward position in such a tight spot, Louis sitting properly in the seat but Harry’s long limbs getting twisted as he tries to stretch his legs open and lean his body down, but no one’s complaining. Louis’ hands find Harry’s hips again, and Harry’s mouth finds Louis’. It’s pretty amazing, really, that this is happening. Already. So quickly. And it doesn't feel weird.

“I missed you,” Harry slurs. “I’ve been missing you all night.”

Hearing it just makes Louis swell even bigger, sucking hard on Harry’s tongue and muffling his moans. His _moans_. “Missed you, too.”

This is different than normal. Frantic. Maybe it’s because they’ve done this before and it proved to Louis that he’s actually got more control over his bonding impulses than he thought. Maybe it's 'cause he knows Harry wants it. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s had too much to drink too quickly and this feels too good to stop. But probably it’s because Harry’s above him, grinding on his shorts, moaning, and he doesn’t want this image to ever leave his brain.

With Louis finally not trying to stop himself, the sensations feel a billion times better. Their bodies are almost smashing. Their teeth clashing. Everything’s happening quicker than Louis can keep up with, and he throws his head back, breaking away from Harry’s mouth. He wants to take charge but he can’t. His blood is throbbing with adrenaline, but his eyes are so droopy he feels high and the car smells so fucking good he can’t stand it. With Harry on top of him, he’s completely at his will.

When Harry begins bucking on top of him, the wonderful friction soon becomes too much. Harry keeps moaning-- _moaning,_ like, in response to Louis--and it’s _Louis’_ name that’s coming out of his mouth. Louis can’t help it. His hands reach out for the side of Harry’s head, fingers digging in deep and pulling his hair. He keeps them there until everything builds and then explodes. “ _Harry_.”

Louis doesn’t think he’s knotted so quickly and so fully in all his life, or that he’s been more vocal when doing so. “Harry-- _Harry._ Shit,” he groans on repeat, voice rough. Now tightly holding Harry’s hips so he’ll stop moving for a minute, Louis remains still, panting in the humid air. Everything’s deprived of oxygen, and he could choke.

“Lay on me,” Harry whispers into his ear. He’s already moving to try to lay horizontally in the backseat of the car, breathing hard along with Louis, and they’re both covered in sweat.

Louis looks down at himself. He’s got on athletic shorts, so the fabric is thin as it is, and they’re completely soaked in the front. Louis knows it’s not just from him, and the knowledge makes him chase after Harry.

He shifts and gets onto his knees, pulling Harry in closer and wrapping a hand around his shirt until it’s underneath suddenly, touching the soaking wet skin of his back. He presses down on Harry with all of his weight and maneuvers him roughly, now sliding his hand along his thigh. He wants to touch everything. It’s a really weird thing to’ve just knotted and still feel this way. He wants him so much.

With his head turned to the side, Harry closes his eyes and spreads his knees apart. Louis settles in between.

“Louis, Louis. Louis. I’m so--f-fu--I’m so wet, Louis.”

“Shit,” Louis groans. He pulls away but keeps one hand next to Harry’s head, leaving an indent into the leather of his seat. The other doesn’t leave Harry’s side, but his touch isn’t as firm as before. “‘Cause of me?”

Harry's eyes are heavy, his lips are swollen, and his hair’s a mess. He turns his head to the side to bare his neck, and even though he's done that before, something about the gesture feels distinctly different tonight. Maybe it’s the way Harry can’t stop pulling at his collar desperately, the way his skin is breaking out not only in a sweat but chill bumps at the same time, the noises he’s making. The fucking _smell_ inside the car.

“Harry,” Louis hisses sharply, pulling away. “When’s your heat due? I thought you just had--”

Harry's lips part. The car feels ten times hotter when he writhes around and yanks off his shirt, and when it’s off, he just keeps writhing, squirming around and moving against anything he can find, moving against Louis. Louis moves right back against him, but he’s whimpering the whole time in sensitivity.

“Harry,” Louis urgently whispers.

“Louis,” Harry whispers back.

Then they’re making out again, their bodies moving together once more. Harry ends up moaning Louis’ name again before long, and everything feels so _good_ and so _right_ and so _perfect_ that Louis knows he’s gonna end up blowing another load any second if he doesn’t slow down.

He squeezes his eyes shut. How is this even possible? “Harry--God--”

“Feels good.” Harry lifts his own hand to his mouth and sticks two of his fingers inside before making a vibrating sound around them.

Louis lifts his head up and truly looks at the scene below. Jesus Christ. This has got to be every Alpha’s dream. An omega writhing his body while sucking on his own fingers. Around two of them, Harry begins groaning. “Ah, Louis...”

Louis shudders in disbelief. “Harry...You’re so fucking hot right now.”

Harry’s hips still move, but his eyes never open. There’s sweat on Louis’ upper lip as he just watches him, and when Harry lifts his heavy eyelids, his eyes are droopy and blue. “Can I suck your cock?”

Louis blinks. “What?”

Harry’s fingers are already pushing down on Louis’ athletic shorts, and the elastic waistband makes it easy for them to slide down Louis’ legs. The second he has the chance, Harry dips his hand underneath Louis’ underwear and grabs his crotch, hard.

“Harry!”

Harry pulls Louis forward again by wrapping his entire hand around Louis’ dick and tugging. When Louis feels Harry’s palm brush along his knot, his mouth drops in a gasp, and--oh, God, Harry is stroking him now--it’s already wet and sticky and now the sliding motion is just too much. Louis tries to touch Harry’s hand to move away it but ends up not following through. It feels too good like it is.

But he’s already knotted. He’s the one that’s supposed to be making Harry come now. Before his brain can even think about what to do, Harry’s got his hand out of Louis’ boxers and is moving again, writhing as if stretching.

“I don't--Harry--what are you?--”

Instead of responding, Harry rolls onto his stomach and lifts up his hips. “Want you here,” he moans. He starts to move his ass side to side and then in circles like he’s impatient to be mounted. “Want you inside me here.”

Louis’ mouth salivates again, and drool starts to spill out the sides as he looks at what Harry’s offering. Harry's shorts are wet. A large spot of dampness covers the fabric right at the seat of them, and it’s like Louis can taste it. _There’s so much of it._ That’s what he’s been smelling.

Sometimes Louis can smell it when they make out, vague and sweet spritzes of perfumed cream through the air, but now it’s more potent than Louis’s ever known before. More... _visible_. Cloying. And he can’t stay away.

“Oh, _shit,_  Harry.”

Louis feels his canine teeth elongate, and he rubs his tongue on their sharp points. They're ready to bite and claim, to _mark_. And Louis can’t bring himself to make them normal again. This isn’t good.

This isn’t good. Harry’s...in heat. He’s definitely in heat. He’s gone into heat. This isn't good. Oh, holy shit. How had this happened.

Harry’s hips are still rocking. He spreads his knees wider, and it makes his body drop lower on the seat so his legs look lither and his back looks curvy. “C’mon…”

Louis scoots away to try to get some fresher air, any bit of air that’s not completely saturated with the smell of Harry. He feels at the foggy windows. They’re electric, and the car is off. He can’t roll them down. “I can't. I can't do this--”

Marking him would be way beyond their arrangement. He couldn’t ever really reverse that if it happened and Harry didn’t really want it. But fuck, his teeth won’t go back. If anything, they just feel larger, making it hard for Louis to talk.

“Yes, yes, yes, you can,” Harry mumbles. He blindly reaches out for Louis’ crotch again, fingers landing right on his still-full knot. “We--talked. You said. Don’t you want to? _Mmmm_.”

Harry gasps suddenly, and Louis watches his body shudder before he lets out a high-pitched moan. If possible, more of the smell sprays out into the air, and Louis realizes that as he’s watched, he himself has been shaking.

Harry drops his hands to his hips, underneath the waistband of his shorts and briefs, and he pushes them both down at the same time. He frantically kicks them off his legs and resumes his position on all-fours.

“Harry. That's--this isn't what you really want.”

Even as he says it, he finds himself moving closer to Harry again, groaning just in response to Harry’s _smell,_ to his position. The fact that he just came inside his underwear and now they’re on the floorboard of his car, forever to mark the spot with their scent. The fact that he’s naked. “Is it?”

Louis can hear Harry’s heart thump inside his chest, louder than anything, like a drum, and every cell inside Louis’ body screams at him to give Harry some relief. Without knowing what he’s doing, he walks on his knees to the space behind Harry and stares at his ass.

Harry’s glistening. He’s leaking. There’s stuff dripping out of him--a trail of slick, continuously oozing, dropping down to his balls. It’s more of him than Louis’s ever, ever seen in real life. He wants to drop his mouth to it.

“ _Holy…_ ”

Louis gets even closer to Harry. He matches himself up to Harry’s ass and begins to move his body with Harry’s in any way possible. There’s no rhythm yet. Even though they’re not skin-on-skin, Louis can feel the warmth and wetness on himself like they are. The entire car is stifling hot, the windows completely dense with condensation and steam. Everything smells like Harry and only Harry, like heat--it’s definitely a real, true heat, there’s no mistaking it--and the scent travels into Louis’ mouth just from breathing. It’s all-consuming. It’s--indescribable.

Even more than before, Louis is being magnetized to Harry, and with droopy and lust-lidded eyes, he leans forward, covers Harry’s entire back with his chest--his shirt is now off, too--and presses his mouth to Harry's again, biting his bottom lip on purpose. Immediately, Harry completely backs his ass up to meet the front of Louis’ underwear in just the right place, and there’s no way Louis’ll be able to leave.

“I can _taste_ it.” Louis says as he mesmerizes, leaning in more and fucking Harry’s tongue with his own as his underwear get more and more wet from Harry. “God, you taste like it.”

“I’ll be good,” Harry says out of nowhere.

“You are good. You’re always good. You’re so good,” Louis finds himself mumbling nonsensibly, and as Louis’ tongue chases Harry’s as deep as it can go through his elongated teeth, the taste of sweet beer suddenly enters his mouth over the taste of heat.

Louis’ body stills. Fuck. Harry’s drunk _and_ he’s in heat. He’s still backing up on Louis, though, so Louis removes his mouth from Harry’s and backs up until he’s all the way to the other side of the car. It barely helps. Actually, it makes Louis feel worse. He immediately wants to go back.

Harry’s clearly in agony, too, and he’s groaning for Louis’ touch again. “Where are you?” he sobs, dropping his head so low his shoulderblades look sharp. “I need, ah, Louis, _please_ , it hurts so bad--”

He sits still and breathes heavily while watching Harry drop his hips and hump the seat. Louis doesn’t want Harry to have to do that. He wants to do it for Harry. _Fuck,_  he wants this. But Harry has been drinking, and he’s in heat. Louis’d never be able to live with himself.

Louis covers his nose and mouth with one hand and grips his knot inside his boxers with the other. He’s just gonna stay right where he is. “I want to,” he moans, words muffled in his palm. “God, I want to. I want to.”

Louis knows this isn’t Harry’s first heat. He’s made it through other ones before and survived. There has to be something Harry can do-- _something_ \--to give him relief. “What do you do when you're alone? How d’you--? Harry, _please_ \--” Louis opens the door just a bit and starts gasping in fresh air before putting his hand back on his nose and mouth again.

Harry moans. “Get me pregnant, Louis.”

“Holy shit! Harry,” Louis says frantically, voice a few octaves higher than normal. His voice is still completely muffled, though, but he’s loud and urgent when he speaks again. “Harry, tell me what you do when you're alone--when--when you’re alone and in--in heat.”

Harry presses his ass out more, arching his back again like he’s about to be mounted and wants to give a good view. “Stick things in myself and pretend it's you.”

Louis drops his hand from his mouth. Holy--fucking--shit. “Do you really?”

“Yeah. But...it doesn’t... _oww._..”

God. Fuck. Harry's skin is so damp. His cheeks are so flushed. His hair is wet. He’s sweaty from head to foot, like he’s just gotten out of the bathtub, and it’s the sexiest thing Louis’ ever seen.

“Do that, then.”

Immediately following Louis’ order, Harry reaches behind him and sticks two fingers up into himself. As he watches, Louis begins to stroke the hand that’s in his boxers on instinct. He stares at Harry’s ass and listens and watches as Harry quickly comes, then he watches more as Harry sticks two more fingers inside himself and comes again. When Louis’  second orgasm spurts out of him, his’ legs shake, and his head falls back. Afterwards, he’s horrified.

He looks down at himself. There’s a thick patch of cream on the outside of his boxers from Harry's slick, and the inside is covered in his own filth. Louis’ still so hard it’s almost funny-looking, but he also feels nauseous because of how perverted he's being.

He starts screaming inside his head to try to mentally cover up the sounds of Harry begging for him to come back. He can’t. He can’t help Harry. Staying away is the only thing he can do.

“Help me,” he can hear Harry beg. Louis’ eyes are squeezed shut. His teeth are cutting into his lip. His head is positively pounding. “Please, _please._  Please, do it yourself. I need it! Lou, I--I need it…”

“I can't,” Louis cries. He's fucking crying. “Harry, I _can't._ ”

“I'm gonna die,” Harry moans. It sounds like he’s crying, too. “I'm dying… I'm dying!”

Harry's face tightens and Louis opens his eyes to watch him come all over the backseat again. Harry has two seconds’ worth of peace before he begins crying and quickly masturbating again, and Louis knows he has to get away _right now._ Right now, in the small period of clarity that exists after he comes. Right now, before this feeling builds again and he truly won’t be able to stop himself.

“Fucking shit! Fuck!” Louis cusses to himself. In just his boxers, he opens the door, runs outside, and slams it shut. He can breathe again. He can think again. Harry’s still inside, calling out for him, and Louis puts his hand back on the handle of the door. What was he thinking? He needs to get back in there.

“Don't!” Gemma says from behind Louis, agitating his already-heightened senses. He doesn’t smell her at first, but now she’s _right there_ , and Louis growls, flashing his eyes and lifting his lips to bare his fangs.

“I’m driving him home,” Louis tells her, walking to the driver’s door.

“Just stay away,” Gemma continues. “You'll only regret it.” Her Alpha order trumps Louis, so he obeys despite his body wanting to protest. Pulling at his hair, he fights with her. Harry’s only getting louder inside the car.

“Isn't there something he can take? Give him something! This--Fuck--”

Gemma just shakes her head.

Louis is maniacal. “Why?! He’s in--he’s hurting--!”

Gemma stands up taller, waiting for Louis to move away from the car. “This is what it’s like. He’s fine.”

“It fucking isn’t! Give him--give him--” Louis steps into Gemma’s personal space and grabs her shirt. “Find an omega and get one of those pills they can take for--for it to stop--”

“Ew!” Gemma pushes Louis away. “Don’t put your hands on me like that ever again.”

“Someone here has to have a pill--”

“Those pills are illegal. And cause infertility. So.”

“What’s he worried about that for?! He doesn't need to be in--you don’t know what--he’s in _pain_.”

Gemma doesn't respond for a long time. She keeps her hand on the door handle, so Louis keeps listening to Harry's desperate noises with his ear pressed against the window. His teeth won’t go back to normal.

Eventually, Gemma moves in such a way that Louis is forced to retreat. “Where are your keys?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Tell me.”

“In the pocket of my shorts.”

Gemma opens the driver’s side door, sits down in the car, and reaches around to the backseat.

Feeling helpless, Louis stomps his foot. “Don’t do that, he’s naked!”

When she turns back around, Louis’ shorts are in her hand and then quickly, his keys, but she doesn’t look happy to’ve found them. She looks disgusted. “Ugh! _Nasty_.”

“Give them to me,” Louis tells her, holding out his hand. “I can drive.”

“No.”

“You’ve been drinkin’ too, Gem, let me drive!”

Gemma starts the car “I haven’t drank a thing. I wasn’t gonna let myself get stranded in this godforsaken place.”

Gemma tosses another set of keys at Louis, and his coordination is so bad that they just land on the grass. “Those are mine. Well, Mom’s. Drive that in the morning when you leave.”

“I’m not fucking leaving in the fucking morning,” Louis argues, stepping closer after picking Gemma’s set of keys up. “I’m leaving now. With Harry.”

“Then give me back my keys.”

“Let me in my car!”

Gemma easily reaches out and grabs her keys back from Louis’ hand. Louis punches the side of his car.

“Look. It won't take but a few days.”

“A few days is too long!”

Gemma remains calm. “It's fine. I’ll get him home.”

Louis paces in front of the door. “I can't take this. I can help him.”

“Distance yourself.”

Louis puts his hand on the door instead, keeping Gemma from rolling up the window. “I can do this. I can make it shorter. He's calling out for me. He wants me. I can knot him and make it better.”

“Like hell, Louis, what the fuck? Get away from the door.”

Louis turns his head and snarls. His eyes are deep red. “It’s my car. It’s my car, and you’re taking Harry,” Louis accuses. “He's in heat right there--there--and I won't fucking allow this!”

Suddenly, Gemma’s eyes are red, as well. “I am his sister and your friend. I am not a threat! Now get away from the car.”

“And I need my clothes.”

As Gemma rolls her eyes and turns around in the seat to reach in the back, Louis freaks out. “He’s _naked_!”

“It's nothing I haven't seen before,” Gemma says icily, throwing his clothes out the window. “Oh, stop growling, for God’s sake. He's my _brother._  I have to take him home and give him water and stuff. Please go away. Seriously, you'll only regret it.”

Louis won't move.

“I'm already being way too nice about this considering what I and, like, everyone in a five-mile radius just overheard. Now fucking move!”

Louis just grips the door harder. Gemma turns her face from him for a second to reach in her purse, and when she turns back to Louis, he finds a small aerosol can pointed directly at his face. Seconds later, he’s already unknowingly inhaled its thick odor and finally feels somewhat normal again.

He barely even feels drunk anymore when he opens his eyes and takes a step back from his own car that’s just been hijacked.

“Just.” Louis rubs his face with his hands. “Lock me out his room,” he tells Gemma quietly. “Please.”

 

* * *

 

 

Later the next afternoon, Gemma doesn’t know she’s being watched when she walks through the western wing of Louis’ house to check on Harry and bring him food. He’s been in the small room next to Harry’s bedroom all night, not sleeping and barely keeping himself from breaking down the door after unwisely driving himself home in a car that wasn’t his, and even though he gets that it’s just Harry’s sister approaching, his lips curl back involuntarily. She’s still an Alpha.

Before Gemma reaches Harry’s door, she stops walking until she’s looks as if she’s just come face-to-face with a spider’s web. “He did _not,"_  Louis hears her mutters to herself. " _Ohh_ , he did _not._  I’m gonna positively kick Louis’ _ass_.”

From behind the cracked door, Louis growls.

Gemma easily finds Louis’ spot and pushes the door open. Looking him in the eyes, she asks in disbelief, “You peed on his door? Louis,” she reproaches. “And it’s all over the floor.”

Louis has no response. He shrugs his shoulders.


	20. can't always be seen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ghosted for a while. I've been in a mood. I wrote something at the beginning of this chapter I considered deleting but will keep it up anyway. It's not meant to be rude. I'm a nice person. But sometimes I just get tired.

To the people who like this story and leave uplifting comments, this isn't for you. This isn’t even for the people who _dislike_ the story and leave comments, although that does make me sad. It’s for the people who (most likely dislike the story but in addition to that) go out of their way to say certain rude things _in_ the comments that, to me, have no other purpose other than to make me personally feel bad. So. I’m just gonna comment back on that. This can even be extended to those who like the story yet still complain.

I’m sort of ambivalent about what to say and how to feel, actually. On one hand, I understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and voicing opinions is everyone’s right in this world, especially on a public platform such as this. And it’s definitely easier because this _is_ a public platform. It’s also way easier in this day and age when literally all people do is shout their opinion at others, normally in some sort of blame, but still. It never ends.

On the other hand, I feel like I myself have polite boundaries when it comes to appropriately voicing opinions, and if opinions really have no point other than to complain, that bothers me. What’s the real drive behind commenting, then? It’s to make me feel bad. And I don’t appreciate that.

In my life, I’ve read bad fics, stupid fics, beyond-shitty fics that are popular as hell in the weirdest way possible, abandoned fics, whatever….and I have never--NEVER--left a negative comment. Even anonymously. That’s just how I am. I simply stop reading it if I don’t care for it, or maybe I keep reading it and take the good parts from it that I like and then just daydream the story in a different direction in my own head. Or if it’s unfinished, I re-read and re-read and desperately wish there were some sort of closure, but I don’t whine in comments that the author didn’t finish. I don’t whine that the author took a long time to get the next chapter up, or that their grammar is in seriously need of help, or that I’m not really caring for where the story is going, or any of that stuff.

I don’t do any of those things because I understand that behind these stories, there is an actual person taking the time out of their own life to write. They’re writing because they want to. They have the right to make their story however they want it. They have the right not to finish. Technically, they can do whatever the hell they want. You, as a reader, however, shouldn’t have the right to make them feel like shit because their story isn’t good enough in your opinion, or what you like, or what you thought it would be. What’s the point of saying certain things if not to just make people feel bad? Yeah, you’re getting some grievance you have with the author or story off your chest, but what’s the real goal? It’s to make someone else feel bad. Seriously, that’s all it is. Otherwise, you’d keep your mouth shut and be wise enough to go about your life. You’d be more tactful with your words if your purpose was truly to give constructive criticism if that was really what you wanted to do.

Do I want people to like this? Yes, of course. As a human, it’s good to have people like what I take the time to share. Am I mad that people don’t? No. Even though I like that people like this (if they do), I’m honestly not writing to _make_ people like it. I am sharing it, though, hoping people will enjoy it (and feeling happy when they do) while still understanding that some/most/all people won’t. The view-counts on the story are clear that it’s not what lots of people enjoy, plus I understand the fandom has largely gone. That’s fine with me. So I’m not saying that I’m upset that people don’t like this and I’m not saying that if a reader doesn’t like it they shouldn’t comment on it. I am saying that words are powerful, though, and if someone’s words come from a place of complaint, _what is the purpose if not to make the writer feel bad?_ Please tell me.

With this fic, I already have it planned out. (My past ones were really just open-ended where I took ideas--my own ideas, of course, but a lot of them from readers--and rolled with them. Sometimes to extreme levels.) It may be taking me awhile to get everything actually written because, hey, I’m a busy person, but I started writing this in the first place because I sincerely just wanted to put words to this story in my head. With that being said, it really bothers me when people comment about how they’re annoyed at topics or frustrated by events...probably because I know how things are going to turn out and I believe that the frustration is worth it and actually has a point. And when things turn out how they eventually turn out, what if the readers don’t like it then? Am I going to read more complaints? That’d be cool. That’d make me feel that it was worthwhile to have even put this up here to share, hoping someone out there would like it, when I could’ve just kept it on paper.

Things aren’t going to be perfect because life isn’t perfect, and there are topics in life and in stories that people don’t like, I guess. I didn’t like how the Hunger Game books ended. I didn’t write a letter to complain to the author. I didn’t bitch because I didn’t get “tags” before each chapter. I get that this is a fanfic, but I’m not going to tag everything. I really just don’t feel like it.

It’s strange to me that so many things slide by in A/B/O fics, or are even just regularly accepted, such as how often omegas are taken advantage of or the extreme preponderance of rape. It’s strange to me that those things should be accepted and unquestioned but the second an omega attempts to manipulate an _Alpha_ with their body instead of the other way around--well, that’s not right. Then people say to you: “I don’t know if I can read this story anymore”  or since Harry and Louis are both so afraid of rejection--“I don’t feel like things are getting anywhere,” or when something isn’t long enough or what someone expected, “What’s even the point of this chapter?”

Who cares what the point of the chapter is, really? What if it had no point? (It does, but what if it didn’t? Would your life really stop? Did I ruin your day that much?)

Again, I’ve read stories in which authors literally say “filler chapter” in the chapter description and….life goes on. I’m not writing the next classical novel here. I realize that. But I don’t write things just to put words down. I do have a reason for them, and if the plot or the fucking slowness of the plot bothers you--again, you have the choice not to read! Simply don’t read! Don’t waste time saying things like “it seems like this is going nowhere.” Maybe come back when it’s completely finished if you’d like. Or, you know, stop reading it now because it’s not at a pace you prefer. Just please, stop commenting these things. It won’t get me to change things and only slows my writing down because then I end up feeling like ass because you took time out of your day, instead of just moving on to something else, to write down a bunch of words complaining.

I’ll justify myself this one last time and won’t do it again. The story is slow. The story is slow, and I’m writing it how I want to write it.

Even in this universe--this highly sex-charged universe, when it comes down to it--I’m still writing about teenagers. Some high-school teenagers have tons of sex, I suppose, but plenty don’t. Tons of them just stay in their rooms and get out their horniness by themselves, and I think that’s realistic. And then of course, many teenagers don’t have their shit together at all when it comes to relationships because there are so many other things people deal with at this age--their own narcissism--the ”Who am I and why am I here?” shit, then school, then parents, then friends... I’m actually writing a LOT about Harry and Louis when I could focus on some other scenes, as well, but clearly I like writing scenes about them/with them together since this whole thing is about their relationship in the first place. There’s so much back-and-forth and progression-and-regression and dimwitted boys doing dimwitted things that I realize it’s frustrating. ...But that’s sort of the point. And it’s what I like.

I know how the angst can be annoying, how the way things are “not going anywhere” can be annoying. If you’re truly _bothered,_  however, then stop reading. It’s not for you. Move on and find something else.

To break from this for a sec and tell you a few unwarranted facts about myself, I actually was in a three-year relationship starting when I was about fourteen, and we didn’t do anything besides kiss until I was fifteen, and we didn’t do anything major until I was sixteen, like see each other naked and...other things that that entails. When we did actually have sex I remember thinking, “Where did this come from?” like it was completely out of the blue or something. (And I’m not lying. I literally laid on my bed, unfortunately having no pleasure at all, and stared out my window thinking tons of thoughts to keep myself from focusing on how much it actually hurt. One of those thoughts was, _wow, we’re having sex. I can’t believe it. That happened fast._ )  

I know not all relationships progress this slowly, but this wasn’t really slow to me. It was normal. We were largely bored together, sometimes going to the movies when we’d get a ride but mostly just sitting around people’s houses watching tv. At night we’d both sneak out to go make out at abandoned playgrounds and smoke cigarettes together until we saw the sun rise and knew we needed to go back home because our parents would be waking up soon. We were young (looking back), and all the time together was good for bonding because I could never do anything physical with someone I didn’t really _know_. I was a lot like Harry is, actually. Ready for sex but maybe not-so-ready for sex? An emotional wreck? Maybe I’m writing him from this perspective to finally get out my issues I had growing up. Just kidding. Maybe.

Actually, I’m writing Louis and Harry as more mature than what I believe normal guys their age would be because I just feel that their social intelligence would be higher having been through the things they have and just by living in this universe in general. (Harry grew up/is growing up relatively poor, his parents never really got along so he’s never really had a stable and healthy relationship he knows how to model, he’s got low self-esteem because he doesn’t feel worthy of love...Louis is an Alpha, borne from an unmated Alpha which is a rarity itself, never really knew his father which embarrasses him and makes him feel abandoned even though he won’t admit it, a bit on the small side his entire life, very interested in sports but never really excelling at them as other Alphas do because, again, he’s small, so he finds his niche in theatre, a thing not many Alphas gravitate to and hence just adds to him being made fun of, hurting his self-esteem deep inside, too. Boo-hoo, I guess, because I know it could be way worse, but everybody’s life experiences bring something to the plate when it comes to their behaviors and choices.)

So, in conclusion, I wish you wouldn’t comment out of petty unhappiness anymore. You’re choosing to read something and you’re feeling some sort of unfulfillment when finished because you’d like things to go faster, you’d like things to go a different way, you don’t like this part or that part, you wish it were different. You feel like I, as the author, have wasted your time. The time that you personally chose to read this.

None of that is my problem. I’m not writing to please you.

* * *

 

From the moment he walks into Harry’s bedroom, Louis distinctly feels unhappiness. Harry's unhappiness. Even if Harry weren’t emanating pure discomfort, his face would give it away.

He’s wearing glasses and reading a book, but he’s almost scowling at the page. There’s some soft acoustic guitar music playing in the background that seems to match Harry’s mood, or maybe it’s causing it--Louis can’t tell. He's been away from Harry too long.

Louis’s given Harry space for the entire week, first since he had to but then out of hesitation. Feeling sluggish and tired himself for days even though he’s not really had an excuse to in the way Harry has, the entire week has gone by in a fog for Louis. Now some type of restlessness burns underneath his skin, and he can’t stay away any longer.

Before approaching Harry’s bed, Louis takes off his name badge and puts it in the pocket of his khakis. Without asking or saying anything at all, he squeezes in next to Harry on the mattress, and when Harry lowers the book from his face, Louis takes it upon himself to reach out for his stomach. At first, Harry jolts, but he eventually relaxes. Louis can at least comfort himself with that much--the fact that he got Harry to relax a little bit. When he’s unsure about everything he does these days, it’s the small victories that count. He smiles slightly and starts moving his hand in little circles.

“Not feelin’ any better, huh?”

“I’m okay,” Harry answers. Unconvincingly.

Louis assesses him quietly. His hair and his face look oily. His loose clothes make him look like he’s been melted into the bedsheets.

“You need a...heating pad or something?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“Food?”

“I ate earlier.” Harry manages to smile. “But thanks.”

Louis squeezes Harry’s shoulder a few times, massaging the muscle there in a way that makes Harry’s skin break out in goosebumps. Still, Harry’s mood doesn’t lift. “Hey. Say something.”

“I don’t really feel like it,” Harry answers, shaking his head again.

Louis sighs. There’s a slight bit of frustration in his tone he’s not aiming for. “Harry. Please.”

Slightly, Harry's eyebrows raise.

“Talk.”

“...About what?”

Louis gives Harry a look, and he can almost feel the temperature of Harry’s skin rise.

Louis removes his hand from Harry’s shoulder and clears his throat. “You know I didn’t, like. Mean to take advantage of you, right? You know I wouldn’t do that? I really didn't know.”

Harry nods, not even looking at Louis. “Guess I got carried away, huh,” he says in a small voice. Eventually, he shrugs. “All I can say is sorry.”

“Well--”

“Look, I don’t really feel good, Lou.” Harry moves a little bit away from Louis, and Louis sadly understands the dismissal.

“Well, can I…” Louis chuckles awkwardly. “Can I get you something or…? Anything? What do you need?”

“Nothing, really.” Harry shakes his head again, getting under his blanket. “Just sleep. I’ll be alright.”

And as he rises from the bed and sees Harry smile half-heartedly at him, he feels the sharpest pang of... _feeling_ hit his chest.

Louis’s never felt more like crying, and it makes him want to punch something.

Harry apparently has summer homework he’s gotten behind on, so that keeps him holed up in his room more than ever for the next few days. Then when Gemma moves into her college dorms, he’s gone even more. Even when he does actually act like a part of the household again, leaving his bedroom to play with all the kids and stuff like he usually would, he won’t give Louis anything real to go by. Louis’s left staring at him a lot, wishing he would say something more about what happened. Something besides that he’s fine.

Maybe it’s all just disappointment stemming from Louis’ wishful thinking. Wishful thinking that what had happened hadn’t _actually_ happened all because of a heat and alcohol. But it had. Unfortunately. As the summer has proven, it was mainly alcohol that made Harry want him in the way he’s always wanted Harry.

So. That’s how the next few days go. Louis can’t count the times Harry says the word _fine_. It’s what Austin says to his mother when they’re arguing. What Jacob says to James when _they’re_ arguing. But Louis’s not arguing with Harry. He doesn’t even think Harry would be too angry considering what all they’ve done together so far. Considering Louis apologized. Considering Louis miraculously threw himself out the car before anything could get really out of hand. The old clip-on scent neutralizer his uncle left on one of the air conditioning vents must’ve had some life left in it, Louis guesses. Otherwise, there’s just no other explanation.

Still, Louis keeps apologizing in the only way he knows how to make things normal again. He buys Harry things. Makes him food.

He knows he’s a shitty chef, but he cooks for Harry anyway. Well, bakes. More cookies and brownies than one person could comfortably eat, actually, but Harry accepts them all. Every last one. Whether he eats them or not Louis doesn't know.

When Louis finally gets the nerve to kiss Harry again, it feels like it did the very first time--that same nerve-wracking emotion inside him wondering if he’s about to get slapped in the face or kissed back. Standing in the pantry one evening as Louis and Harry are both silently raiding it for midnight snacks, Louis figures the moment is as good as any. Harry’s hands dangle at his sides until Louis reaches out to hold them, and it’s what he would consider a church kiss. Safe.It takes quite a few more days before Louis feels things get remotely comfortable again. Harry’s kisses hold more back than ever before. Or maybe it's Louis.

A palpable pressure remains in the air around the house regardless, like the way the atmosphere feels as it prepares for a change. The feeling before a storm.

 

* * *

More days pass and the dense fog barely lifts for Louis, which is an unusual thing for him. With the end of summer break approaching ever-quicker and bringing some of the hottest and brightest weather possible, it’s strange that Louis’ mind is still so...dim.

One afternoon, Cal’s sitting on the couch beside him. Things are normal yet...not.

“You call off again today?” Calvin asks.

As he shakes his head, Louis feels like falling asleep. He's been doing that enough, though. “Not on the schedule.”

“Why? It’s Saturday at three.”

With heavy eyes, Louis keeps staring ahead at the television without even looking to Cal. “Changed shifts.”

“Hm. Surprised they let you do that.”

Louis shrugs. “Told ‘em I’m tired of closing every night and that if I didn’t get some earlier shifts I’ll go somewhere else.”

“And your threat worked?”

Rubbing his eyes, Louis holds back the urge to growl. “I’ve got status.”

Calvin starts laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I do,” Louis argues, feeling insulted. “Summer’s almost over. Then I’ll go back to closing. But whatever.”

“So now you’re the asswipe that works at six in the morning instead of ‘til eleven at night.”

“It’s actually not so bad.” Louis sits up in his uncle’s expensive leather chair he’s been curled up in and stretches. “Half the time, I’m so tired when I get there that I don’t even really do anything but hang out with the overnight crew. And by the time I really wake up around ten or eleven, half my shift’s already gone. Easy money.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

Louis rolls his eyes. Cal’s never worked a day in his life.

He stonily continues to watch the random movie Calvin had brought over while munching incessantly on a giant bag of chips. They’re not quite halfway into the film, and even though he’s been watching without talking up until now, he doesn’t even know what’s going on.

“Heard your mom knocked up Austin again,” Calvin eventually breaks the silence, as Louis knew he would.

Louis wipes his mouth, licks his lips, and nods. “Twins.”

“Again?”

Louis nods once more, throwing more chips in his mouth.

“He’s gonna blow up.”

Louis doesn’t comment. Calvin can be such an annoying person to watch a movie with. Not like Harry. Harry always sits quietly, and it’s always Louis who’s the annoying one who talks.

And it’s like Calvin knows what he’s already thinking about. “Where’s Harry?” he asks.

 _Upstairs probably laying in bed like he’s been doing all week,_ Louis thinks, so attuned to Harry’s depression for the past week it’s like it’s his own. He guesses he’s just worried about him.

“Around, I guess.”

“Thought you were stuck up his ass these days.”

Louis side-eyes his friend. “Sounds like somebody’s jealous.”

“Jealous of what? You’re still a virgin.” Calvin cocks his head to the side. “Course, I don't see _how_ …”

Louis has no answer for that. He changes his taunting. “Mad that your ex just chose someone bigger and better, huh?”

“Psh. She’s not bigger than me,” Calvin grunts, palming his jeans at the apex of his thighs. “And I’m done with him now, anyway. Whatever.”

Louis raises his eyebrows quickly. “Sure.”

“Just shut up and watch the movie.”

The corner of Louis’ lips curl just a tad. “Take your own advice.”

Even if he can’t pay attention to the plot of the dumb action flick, it’s easy to get lost in the visuals. At least that’s what Louis thinks before he hears someone walking down the stairs and is surprised to look over and discover it’s Harry’s friend, Niall. Randomly. In his home.

“What are you doing here?” Louis asks, making a face.

“Tagged along with the other guys,” Niall answers, flicking his head to gesture behind him. As Louis looks beyond Niall, he sees Liam walking down the stairs, too, and he squints his eyes in confusion and barely keeps himself from groaning. Why the hell is _he_ in his house?

“Oh, he got a ride for Zayn,” Niall explains at the look on Louis’ face.

Louis’s even more confused. “Zayn?”

“Yeah, he's up in the living room.”

This time, Louis can't help the audible growl emanating from the back of his throat.

Calvin stands up to do some stupid handshake and hug thing with Liam and Niall, and when he sits back down on the couch, he asks Louis quietly, “Dude, what’s your problem?”

Louis scrunches his eyebrows. “What you talking about?”

“You’re growling.”

Louis forcefully stops the vibrations, clearing his throat. “No, I’m not.”

Calvin looks confused, but he doesn’t say anything further. Looking at Niall, he asks like he’s the host, “So what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, not much,” Niall answers. “What about y’all?”

Louis interrupts what Calvin’s about to say. “What’re you here for?”

Niall looks at Liam. “Just...came along with him.”

“And he’s here because…”

“Because Zayn’s here, like I said.”

“And why’s Zayn here?”

“For Harry.”

“Yes, but why?” Louis asks impatiently.

Niall shrugs. “Some project, they said.”

“Dude, you’re acting like such a dick,” Calvin mutters to Louis, chuckling in disbelief.

“Project for what?” Louis asks, ignoring Calvin.

“French.” Liam answers for Niall just as Niall finally plops himself down on a beanbag chair. “You know they have summer homework?”

“I do,” Louis says importantly. “All the advanced placement classes have summer homework.”

“Their teacher’s making them do presentations the first week of school,” Liam goes on. “Without paper or cue cards. Totally in French. They have to memorize it.”

Louis mutters something indiscernible as Liam sits next to Calvin.

To his left, Louis feels Calvin gaping at him. “What is your problem?” he repeats slowly.

“It’d just be nice to know who’s coming into my house,” Louis says surly.

“Oh, sorry, man,” Niall responds with big eyes. “I can leave. Zayn said--”

“Thought Harry lived here, too,” Liam speaks up, shrugging. “He’s not allowed to have people over for school projects?”

Louis just grunts at Liam and leans back into the recliner. “I didn’t say that.”

Liam motions to the backpack he brought with him. He unzips the front of it and lifts up a ziplock bag half-full of weed. “When they’re done--”

“Yeah, no one’s doin’ that here,” Louis tells the room, now in a mood. “I’ve got all my sisters and shit upstairs. And my dad.”

“They wouldn’t really do anything, though, would they?” Calvin asks. “They all basically _know_....”

“Just have everyone go to your own house if you wanna smoke so bad.”

Calvin turns to look at Louis blankly. “You know, you’ve been in this shitty ass mood--”

“Oh, give me a break--”

“You wanna play something while we wait on them?” Liam asks. He’s now on the floor switching out discs in front of the PlayStation, and he throws a controller at Niall and Calvin before looking at Louis inquisitively. Louis drops his mouth and glares.

In disbelief, Louis shakes his head. “I'll play later. Would you put the damn weed away, Liam?”

“Play,” Calvin insists. “It’ll be uneven.”

“Later,” Louis just repeats. “Liam, put that shit away.”

“We could ask Zayn to play,” Niall suggests to the room. “He said he really doesn’t even need to practice. He’s good at French apparently.”

“If they’re doing the project together,” Louis starts, “it'd be shitty to just leave Harry hangin’--”

“Zayn’s good at everything. He already speaks another language at home. But he doesn’t really like games like this,” Liam says, settling back into the couch next to Calvin. “Says they’re too violent.”

“Ah.” Niall tilts his head to the side. “They sort of are, actually.”

“Zayn’s just sensitive like that,” Liam replies. He and Calvin look to each other and say at the same time, “ _Omegas._ ”

The three of them start to play in silence for a long time, if silence means no talking. There’s tons of noise coming from the television. Eventually, they all hear Niall’s stomach growl in a ridiculously loud way, even above the noise from the game, and they laugh.

“I’m hungry as hell,” Niall chuckles, rubbing his stomach. “I haven’t eaten in, like, hours.”

Strangely, Louis doesn't want to offer anything. He eventually fights through the impulse to be greedy and throws his bag of chips to Niall, commenting, “Austin’s cooking now. He always makes too much. Don’t think he’d mind if you wanted to grab a plate.”

“Sweet. What’s he making?”

Louis looks at Niall curiously. “Fried chicken. Can’t you smell it?”

“No, my sense of smell is shit,” Niall laughs.

“But you’re an Alpha,” Louis comments, appearing to be lazily sprawled out on the recliner but actually wound up so tight he can’t stop shaking his foot. He wonders when Harry will be done with this project. When everyone will leave.

“Yeah, but my gland’s all messed up.”

Louis whips his head over. “What?”

“Yeah. It’s, like, defective.”

Calvin drops his mouth. “No shit, really?”

“Yeah,” Niall responds, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Wrecked my four-wheeler in fifth grade, had to go to the hospital. Real bad injury. I messed up my leg and my knee and had this huge gash right around my gland. It got all cut up so they actually had to mess with it when they stitched me back up.”

Liam’s eyes are wide. “They cut _your gland_?”

“Mhm. They had to to stitch it. I got real close to one of the big arteries.”

“Damn, Niall,” Louis winces. “That sucks, dude.”

“But they fixed me all up again,” NIall supplies, like it’s no big deal. “It just doesn’t work right anymore.”

Liam keeps his eyes on the big-screen and asks, “Where is your gland anyway?”

“Seriously?” Louis mumbles. He rolls his eyes.

“Well, I didn’t know if there was different spots--”

“Your neck, dumbass,” Niall laughs. He pauses the game and turns his head to the side. “See the scar?”

It’s rare, if not totally uncommon, for an Alpha show another Alpha his neck--or for an Alpha show _anybody_ their neck--and Liam drops his mouth as he stares, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Calvin averts his eyes.

Straightening up, Niall laughs at the look on Liam’s face. “Do they teach you different stuff in first grade down south or something?”

“Ha, ha,” Liam says sarcastically. “Actually, though, the curriculum is different. The governor down there doesn’t allow teachers to talk about sex before high school.”

“Teaching about glands isn't teaching about sex,” Louis speaks up.

“What?” Niall asks in shock. “So you just have to wait til high school to learn it all then?”

Liam nods. “Well, sorta. There’s, like, anatomy stuff in eighth grade, but nothing about mating or anything until ninth. Definitely not allowed to talk about mating and bonding and stuff before high school.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Louis comments. “No wonder everyone accidentally mates down there so young.”

“Don’t hate on the south,” Liam comes back, a bit of offense lacing his words. “Up here they have the same issues.” He starts the game back up again.

“Yeah, whatever,” Louis mumbles.

Liam presses down on the buttons of his controller audibly hard, and the clicking annoys Louis to the point he can feel his veins begin to swell under his skin, can actually feel his blood pressure rising. He was perfectly fine watching the movie, not this game. He scowls as Liam continues questioning Niall in his stupid southern accent.

“So are you like a Beta now? You still smell like an Alpha to me,” Liam comments.

“Doctors still say I'm an Alpha,” Niall replies. “They put the gland back in and everything, but it’s not--I mean, I've never had a rut. Can't smell worth a shit, like I said. Don't get all growly or anything. So -- I don’t know. I’m broken,” he laughs.

“Can you knot?” Liam asks.

Nonplussed, Niall shakes his head. “Nah, never have.”

“Mannnn,” Liam makes a long noise of regret. “That sucks. There's nothing better than knottin’. Except maybe seein’ an omega in heat. Or _knottin’_ an omega in heat.”

If possible, Louis’ scowl deepens.

“Wouldn’t know about either of those things,” Niall mumbles.

“You like omegas, though?”

Niall shrugs. “Sure, I like anybody.”

Liam’s got his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he focuses on his mission in the game. “If you had to choose, though, which ones would you be into?”

Niall shrugs again. “Uhh. Girls? No real preference beyond that. I’m a laid-back guy. Just somebody that’s nice. Funny. Has a good appetite. If they smoked weed, that’d be a bonus. Or were really into music.”

“Who doesn’t like music?” Louis pipes in.

Calvin chortles. “Niall wants a big, dirty hippie is what he’s saying.”

“But have you ever been with an omega before?” Liam goes on.

If Louis were Niall, he’d be getting pretty fucking angry at all the personal questions coming from Liam, but Niall really is laid-back. He doesn’t care. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that his gland doesn’t work right. It’s still pissing Louis off just listening to it, though. He’s too preoccupied wondering what exactly Harry’s upstairs doing, though--wondering if he should go up there--to say anything about it.

“I’ve only ever hooked up with Betas. But I danced with an omega at the dance last year,” he laughs. “She let me touch her boob to a Celine Dion song.”

“What, just one boob?” Calvin jokes, looking over.

Niall’s grin widens. “The song ended and the moment was gone before I could put the full charm on her.”

“Ah,” Calvin says. “The old charm of the two-handed boob grab.”

That cracks Niall up, but Liam keeps pestering him. “Man, you really should find an omega to hook up with next. I could get you one. Maybe a freshman or something. You’ll seriously never go back.”

“Niall already knows everyone, though, don’t you?” Calvin asks.

Niall shrugs. “I mean, I know a lotta people, yeah.”

“Well, I know who you are,” Calvin replies in the form of a compliment, “and I don’t really talk to anyone really outside of my grade, so.”

Louis mouths “yeah, right” as Niall answers, “I haven't really met someone I wanna, like, chill with all the time, ya know?”

“Our school just sucks,” Calvin complains. “The omegas are so damn stingy.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

“Now, college.” Calvin snaps his fingers. “That’s where the real omegas are.”

“I’m nowhere close to college like you are,” Niall reminds Cal.

“You're still an Alpha. You could get a college omega if you tried.”

Niall makes a little noncommittal noise. “I’m not picky, though. Like, I appreciate all types of people. I’m not gonna scope someone out just ‘cause they’re an omega or anything.”

“But omegas are the best for Alphas,” Liam persists. “We’re made to go together with ‘em.”

Niall is silent. Just the game is heard for a long time.

“Hey, why don’t you just ask Harry?” Liam asks Niall. “You chill with him a lot.”

“Absolutely not,” Louis speaks up sternly. “No.”

Liam barely looks from the game to shoot a curious glance at Louis. “Well, he’s got omega friends, don’t he?”

“What the fuck--?” Louis finally spits out. “Everyone stop talking about omegas like they’re fucking objects.”

“We’re not,” Liam counters.

“Pretty sure you _are._ ”

“Dude. I was just tryin’ to give Niall options. Chill out. Actually, Niall--hold up,” Liam starts, suddenly pausing the game to bend over and reach in his backpack. “This’ll take care of you.”

“What?”

“I got the new Omega Monthly yesterday. Feast your eyes.”

Niall’s eyes widen. “Did you really? How'd you get it?”

“I have my ways.” Liam grins. He tosses the magazine over to Niall.

Niall’s face as he stares at just the front cover is comical.

“Thought you appreciated all types of people,” Liam laughs.

“I do,” Niall corrects. He begins to flip from page to page in distraction. “Yeah, I do. It’s...just...wow.” He holds the magazine out in front of him and tilts it to the side. “How do they even...bend like that? That’s impressive.”

“Females are in the front, males in the back,” Liam says, guffawing.

After several minutes in which the magazine is passed around, Calvin holds it up to Louis with an eyebrow raised. He has to actually call out to Louis to get his attention, though, but fists clenched, Louis doesn’t even hear. When he finally sees the magazine cover, being obviously waved in his face, he looks over his shoulder to the stairs and shakes his head. “Put it away, man.”

Calvin shrugs. He casually throws the magazine back to Liam and picks up his controller again. “Are we doin’ this or what? Fuckin’ talkin’ so much we’re not even playin’ this game.”

“What’s with nobody appreciating the omega body today?” Liam asks. He gazes to Louis. “You afraid Harry won't approve or something?”

Louis heavily sighs. “What’s it to you? Just put it away, would you?”

“I don't get it.” Liam scrunches his eyebrows. “What are you afraid of?”

Louis’ jaw hardens, and he holds out a hand.

Liam smirks and tosses the magazine to him, unpausing the game at the same time. “It’s not like he's gonna catch you.”

As he opens it to a random page, Louis has to visibly hide his shock and unconscious excitement. The images before him are really graphic. Like, extremely graphic. More graphic than he's expecting, his only source of comparison being the magazines he keeps under his bed. They aren’t anything like this. Even the random videos he sometimes watches aren’t really this bad, and they’re actual videos, not just still pictures.

The first page he opens to has a huge photo of a female omega being knotted by some Alpha with a hardcore face, and nothing is modest about their positions at all. Louis can see everything. He flips through a few more pages as his heart races. Man. The magazines under his mattress are _shit_ compared to this.

As he looks at more photos--some of penetration, some just random poses, but mostly just a bunch of slick assholes--something stirs inside Louis. When he sees a photo of an Alpha’s fingers buried deep inside an omega, his vision actually goes blurry.

It's not like he's naive. He's a teenaged Alpha. He thinks about this stuff all the time. Now he has actual visual images to imagine himself with Harry, to imagine doing these things to Harry and Harry responding like the omegas in the photos. At Calvin’s party. At the lakehouse. In the back of his car.

Calvin taps his arm. “Hey, Louis, dude--”

When Louis’s pretty sure his heartbeat is audible, he's prepared to casually throw the magazine back to Calvin. Then he sees an article on the side of the page-- _The Ultimate Ten-Step Guide to Giving Your Omega Multiple Orgasms_ \--and he can't help but begin reading the step-by-step instructions. One--pick the right environment. Omegas can relax easier if they’re somewhere comfortable. Two--Lots of foreplay. Don't underestimate the power of kissing. These things are obvious but still helpful, Louis guesses. He reads on.

“Louis,” Calvin repeats.

“Cal, shut _up_ ,” Louis growls, just as a syrupy-slow voice speaks out right after he's finished. Suddenly, he smells Harry, and his head whips up so fast his neck aches.

Walking down the last few stairs and into the basement, Harry is scratching his hair and looking at the television with repulsion on his face. He's adorable.

“Guys, we can hear those gunshots from this game all the way up in my room, you know, and it’s really, really distracting and violent--”

Harry's eyes shyly shift to Louis and he freezes. “Oh--oh.”

Two steps behind, Louis looks down at his lap. A crinkly sound of magazine pages is all that's heard next as his stomach sinks and his hands struggle to work. He’s probably fucking half-hard underneath the damn thing, and-- “Shit.”

Fuck it. Louis looks down at the magazine still in his hands and quickly throws it to the side like he meant to do just seconds ago. Dammit. It lands on the floor to a centerfold page of yet another omega, a male one, with his legs spread wide open. While his eyes get large, Louis kicks it away before clearing his throat and standing up to face Harry. He's prepared to make a joke, but Harry’s face is...horrifying. Heartbroken, almost.

“That--wasn’t what it looked like,” is all Louis can croak out, laughing. This would almost be funny if it…weren’t.

Looking behind him, the page is still wide open, the magazine untouched. _Fucking Liam._ Louis kicks the magazine, closer to Liam’s feet this time since he doesn’t get the fucking clue. “Put the fucking thing away. Christ.”

“Hey!” Liam calls out, upset. “You ripped it!”

Harry looks down before turning around and heading back up the stairs. “Sorry--I’m. Sorry. Sorry to interrupt.”

Louis is frozen for a second as he absorbs Harry’s excessively sad reaction. He knows it wasn’t the best thing he could’ve been caught looking at, but what? Does Harry think Louis has a porn addiction or something? Or, like, an addiction to sex? Like a pervert? After what happened last week, hopefully that isn’t the case.

Shit. After what happened last week, that’s probably _exactly_ what Harry thinks. Louis’s feet start moving.

“Harry, wait--”

“I tried to warn you, dude,” Cal calls out.

Louis quickly follows Harry up the stairs to explain himself, but God, Harry’s quick. He’s already speed-walking past the bustle going on in the kitchen, and as Louis quickly follows him, his uncle James watches in amusement from the kitchen chair he always sits in before he goes into the hospital for his on-call nights.

“Shut up,” he tells James, though James has said nothing. He rushes to Harry again. “Harry, no, you weren't--nothing--there seriously was nothing to interrupt.”

“It's fine,” Harry says shortly. He swiftly walks through the bigger common rooms--the living room where Louis sees Lottie, who flicks him off, then to the den--to get to the eastern wing of the house. Harry’s face tells Louis it is Not Fine.

Louis is uncomfortable seeing Harry so upset, and he doesn't know what to do to, so he laughs awkwardly as he follows Harry into another hallway. The house is too damn big. “No, it's really not what you think, Haz. It was Liam’s--I was reading--”

Harry reaches the bedroom at the end of the hall and places his hand on the doorknob. “You can look at--read--whatever you want, Louis. You're not, like, forbidden from it. You're an Alpha. Don’t--stop on my behalf. I already told you I didn’t mean to interrupt. It was just loud--”

“But--”

“I'm gonna study some more. With Zayn. You can go back to...reading.”

“Harry, would you just hang on a minute?” Again, Louis smiles a bit, trying to laugh. “Let me explain. Seriously.”

“There’s nothing you have to explain to me,” Harry replies in an even voice.

The door is shut in Louis’ face. He tries opening it, but Harry has already locked it. Automatically, Louis shakes the doorknob back and forth.

“Open up!”

Louis pulls the doorknob back and forth even more, banging on the door as hard as he can. “Harry! Just--would you open the door?!”

There is no response.

“Harry...please.”

Nothing.

Fucking Liam. _Fucking stupid ass Liam._ Louis growls, suddenly angry. Violently angry. Fucking Liam. “Open the door and let me EXPLAIN!”

Louis is overcome with such a rage that he punches the door--once, twice, three times in succession. His hand is aching when he pulls it back. Fuck. God fucking dammit. He kicks the wall for good measure before giving up.

Louis’s on a warpath before he knows it, energy burning under his skin from out of nowhere. How fucking dare Liam--that stupid, younger Alpha who apparently knows more about heats and knotting than Louis himself does--just have that magazine out in the open like that. Mid-day! In Louis’ own house! With omegas around! With Harry right there! In Louis’ house. Fucking taking out _his_ movie to put in one of _his_ video games without even asking! What a disrespectful _son of a bitch_.

Louis’ footsteps are barbaric as he marches back downstairs and into the basement he's just exited. He locks eyes with Liam.

“Omegas, man,” Liam just laughs.

“Y _ou._ ”

Liam smiles at first, finding the whole situation he's just witnessed funny, but then his face falls. Sensing Louis’ rage, he stands up.

Louis is fuming. Chest heaving. Face red. Fists clenched. “You fucking dick.”

“What the hell did I do?”

“ _What did I do_?” Louis mocks in Liam’s accent. “God dammit! I told you to put it away!”

“You were the one looking at it, man. If your omega don’t like you lookin’ at this kinda stuff, then maybe--”

“That’s not the fucking point I’m making.”

“Then, what? You think Harry hasn’t seen that stuff before or something?” Liam huffs. “How do you think omegas get by during their heats?”

Louis advances on Liam until he’s a foot in front of his face. “What the FUCK do you know about Harry’s heats?! Don't talk about his fucking heats in front of me.” Louis points to Liam’s chest as he threatens, “Don't even _think_ about his heats, you dick! Don't even think about _him_! If you ever so much as get _near_ him, I'll bash your nose so hard into your face--”

Liam begins breathing heavily. He interrupts Louis’ threats. “You need to leave.”

Louis growls. “This is my own fucking house. Don't you ever tell me what to do, let alone in my own house. That you were NEVER invited to. You piece-of-fucking-shit, everloving cun--”

Liam moves closer to Louis. There’s hardly any room between them. “You're going into rut. Get out of the room.”

Niall starts to be affected, too. Without knowing what he's doing, he stands up. Calvin does, too, pulling on Louis’ arm.

Louis breathes hard as he shakes off Calvin’s attempts to try to pull him away. His muscles seem accentuated by how tensely he clenches them, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to swing his arms and connect his fists with Liam’s face.

“I'll only ask nicely once before I begin to react to you,” Liam says, his own muscles flexed.

“I hate you,” Louis spits with a self-control he never knew he possessed. He wants to tear Liam to shreds. “With everything inside me, I fucking hate you.”

Liam narrows his eyes and steps closer to Louis. “Niall, go upstairs and get Zayn for me. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Aw, no,” Calvin says quickly, stepping in between Liam and Louis as Niall walks away. “Y’all aren’t doin’ this shit. Liam--he’s startin’ a rut, you’re in his home, just leave. Go on. Just go.”

Somehow, Liam listens to Calvin, and he walks up the basement stairs, Louis’ eyes following him closely. Louis’ eyes flash red, and he looks at Calvin. “I’m goin’ outside. Make sure that prick isn’t here when I get back.”

With that, Louis walks past Calvin and quickly leaves the house, slamming the back door on his way out. If he stays inside a minute longer, he'll kill. He’ll kill and slash and throw and injure and _maim_.

Outside, Louis stands still a few moments and waits. For what, he doesn’t know. He should just go back inside and get to Harry, but he needs to cool off first.

He’s not going into rut. Christ. He’s just pissed off. He just _had_ a fucking rut not too long ago. He knows what his ruts feel like. It’s a testament to how much he loathes Liam that people think he’s in rut just from how angry he’s feeling. What the fuck, man. He was having a perfectly fine day until they decided to invade his home.

It takes a few moments of just standing still and fuming before Louis starts jogging around the backyard. It takes another few moments before he realizes what he's actually doing. What the hell? He never goes running for recreation. Fuck running. His hand hurts. He wants to go back to his house and kill Liam, and then run to Harry’s room and--he doesn’t know what. He runs anyway, laps and laps and laps around the huge yard. Daring Liam to exit from the back.

He thinks about approaching his soccer net and pretending the few balls laying around the yard are Liam’s face, but jogging is better for him right now. It’s distracting him from the pain in his fingers, from the bones he may well have broken from trying to get to Harry. _Harry_. He wants to be in there with him right now, but in the moment, he’s slightly obsessed with his cardio. He needs to get in better shape for Harry. He needs to look good for Harry. It’ll just be one more thing that can prove to Harry he’s a good Alpha. He can provide. He _can,_  dammit. He can cook, and he can buy him things he needs, and he can kiss him and touch him and make him feel good. If that’s what Harry fucking wants, he can just ask for it. Louis can give it to him.

Lap. Lap. Another lap. Walking back inside to Harry sweaty and strong would make Louis look successful. He'll carry Harry upstairs when he’s finished exercising, lay him in his own bed, and he’ll feel victorious. Harry will think he’s the top Alpha. The strongest. The best.

 

* * *

 

Harry stands by the bedroom door with his bottom lip quaking. Zayn’s still sitting in the same chair with a book on his lap, looking at the door with worried eyes. His eyes have sort of remained worried-looking all afternoon, honestly, and Harry knows it’s ‘cause of him. He just hasn’t had it in him to pretend everything’s okay.

“Alphas are awful,” he whispers. “They are horrible, horrible people.”

As he trudges to the bed and throws himself atop it, Zayn sighs from the old-fashioned rocking chair he’s sitting in off to the corner. “What did he do?”

Outside in the hall, Louis’s hollering, _“Open up!”_ and Zayn gasps at the way his voice sounds. He’s being loud.

“Let him be stuck outside,” Harry mumbles. “I don't care.”

The door begins to rattle.

“Harry! What happened?”

Harry shakes his head. His lip trembles and tears spill over. Dammit. It's so easy to cry these days. Ever since he started those stupid pills, his emotions have been so out of control.

Outside, Louis’ voice is louder, pleading. “Would you open the door?!”

Zayn and Harry look at the door and watch it visibly move from the force of Louis trying to get in. The noise finally stops after just a few more seconds. When Harry can tell Louis has given up, he looks at Zayn and explains quietly, “He was looking at Omega Monthly.”

“Oh,” Zayn says, oddly relieved. “That's it?”

Harry scoffs. “That's it? _That's it?_ Zayn, that’s the _worst_ magazine out there.”

“But...you look at stuff like that, too.”

“I looked at Ablaze Alphas _once_ because Will slipped it in my backpack one day last year,” Harry defends. “And it definitely isn’t anything like _Omega Monthly._ ”

Zayn laughs, which is not the correct thing to do. He morphs his face into a visage of misery to match Harry’s.

“Harry,” he begins. “It's not that--I don’t get it. What makes lookin’ at a magazine so bad?”

Harry lies on his stomach and covers his head with a pillow. “Don't you see? It's just proof of how I'll never be what he wants, what he really wants. I’ve been so stupid. All of this has been fucking useless.”

Zayn moves the pillow out of the way. “The horrible bad plan to seduce him with your heat at the farm party didn’t work, I take it?”

“Do you see a mark on me?” Harry asks, blankly looking at his ceiling. Well, not his ceiling. This room isn’t fucking his. Barely anything in it is.

“Talk to me.”

Harry doesn't look at Zayn. He stares at the ceiling still, vision unfocused. “The omegas. In that magazine. They're small and pretty and ...better than me. That's what he really wants. Not some lanky giant, someone taller than him...some shapeless freak of nature--”

“You're not shapeless.”

“Yes, I am!” Harry cries in misery.

“You're not,” Zayn presses. “C’mon, Harry, when have I ever lied to you? I always tell the truth, even if it hurts. You're--you're beautiful, man. I'm jealous, actually.”

Harry shakes his head. That's clearly untrue. What's there to be jealous of? Harry doesn't know a thing about -- _stuff_ with Alphas, and he knows Zayn probably does. Will definitely does. From the way Zayn talks, he knows a lot. Harry’s just never asked.

Today he will. “Zayn. How...how far have you gone with an Alpha?”

Zayn pauses. “Um, like...Sexually?”

Harry nods.

“Um, well. Me and Liam…”

Zayn doesn’t finish until Harry presses him to. “...You and Liam what?”

“We’ve...we’ve done stuff. And he’s helped me through a heat before.” Zayn clears his throat. “So that would be it.”

Harry sits up fully. “He _what_?”

“But don't tell anyone,” Zayn’s quick to say.

“ _He’s helped you through a heat?_ ”

“Just once. And it's not like we’re mated,” Zayn replies. “Like, he wants to but I...we’re not very public. Unless we’re drunk or something. We don't, like...date or anything. I’m not really sure what I want right now.”

“Define _helped you through your heat._ ”

“C’mon, Harry. You know…”

“You had heat sex.”

“It's secret! Please don't tell him I told you.”

“You had heat sex,” Harry repeats.

“Just once. Sort of on accident. The other times it’s just been--”

“Other times?” Harry blinks. Well, that's news. That is--that's just.

Zayn nods. It’s quiet, and he ends up shrugging.

Any thought of Louis _willingly_ mating Harry is thrown out the window. How could there ever be any possibility of that? If Louis didn’t even jump on the opportunity to have sex with Harry when Harry was literally underneath him asking for it--not once, but two times, once while he was literally _in heat_ \--how would it ever be possible to mate with him? Here Harry thought it would be a sure thing, too. Thought Louis actually liked him and was just being stupid about it because he’s an Alpha and Alphas are slower at realizing these types of things. Thought maybe that throwing himself in Louis’ face would be a surefire way of getting what he wanted.

Guess not. Guess Harry’s just that pathetic. He’s been overly optimistic this entire time.

Harry does cry harder now. “I won't tell anyone,” he promises.

Rubbing large circles on Harry’s back, Zayn whispers, “Oh, Harry, it's alright, c’mon. Calm down. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

Harry doesn't stop crying. He coughs from the force of it. “You didn’t. And I--I can’t feel much worse anyway. I already feel bad enough ‘cause of him.”

“Harry.” Zayn's voice is suddenly serious. “Your...heat thing. Did…? Did Louis do something to you that...you didn't like?”

Harry wipes his eyes and sniffs. “No. It was me. I did.”

When Harry doesn't elaborate, Zayn presses, “Well, what'd you do?”

Harry’s chest expands as he takes in much-needed air. His breath hitches as his body tries to acquaint itself to normal breathing. “Made a complete fool out of myself.”

Zayn’s eyes get bigger in question.

“All types of stuff. Rubbed myself all over him. Stuck my butt all in his face. Got slick all over the backseat of his car.”

Immediately, Zayn laughs out loud, and Harry puts his eyebrows together while frowning.

“Sorry, sorry. Just the way you said it.” Zayn clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“It's not funny.”

“No. It's not,” Zayn agrees. “But...what's so...Did he--was it bad for you? Some Alphas I guess can be sorta--”

“I don’t remember all of it. You know how it is. The things come and go.” Harry rubs his eyes. “But I know he didn’t do anything. He left. He didn’t stay with me.”

“Probably didn’t know how to handle you, really....Liam said that he wasn’t really sure what to do with me that one time ‘cause I--I mean, you know.”

“But he still did it, didn’t he?” Harry’s quick to retaliate. He shakes his head. “He still helped you out and didn’t just let you suffer. I--I wouldn’t really care about how slutty I was, I guess... I wouldn’t be so _embarrassed_ if he just didn’t…” He struggles not to cry again. “Leave me.”

“I’m sure he--”

“No! There’s no excuse, so just stop trying! He always leaves. Calvin never did that with Will and I’m sure Liam doesn’t do it with you. So stop.”

“But you guys have talked since then? And kissed and stuff?”

“Barely.”

“But...the answer’s yes?”

Harry nods as Zayn scoots closer. “Okay, then let’s use logic. There’s a pattern here. You guys…” Zayn clears his throat. “You guys do this a lot. There has to be an answer. Maybe it’s just...I dunno, Harry. Maybe he’s…”

Harry cocks his head to the side as Zayn struggles to make something up.

“Maybe he’s got a small dick and is weirdly insecure about it?”

Harry furiously shakes his head, face heating up. “No.”

“Maybe he’s got something wrong, then. His gland doesn’t--”

“Zayn, _no_. He can knot. And he wouldn’t be looking at the magazines then.”

“True. Then maybe he’s afraid of something. Afraid of scaring you or something.”

“He can’t be,” Harry answers, shaking his head. “I’m the one who keeps doing all this myself. I’m literally asking for it. I was in heat.”

Zayn sits there quietly again, frowning. “That’s so crazy,” he mutters. “There has to be some reason, though. Are you sure you’re not leaving anything out?"

“He knows, Zayn. He knows I want it, and he doesn’t do anything,” Harry concludes. Tears fall out of his eyes again while he plops down on the bed again. “He thinks I’m gross. That’s the fucking answer to all this. He looks at all those other omegas in the magazine because they’re attractive, and I’m not. He’s using me for whatever omega comfort I give him, I guess, and he doesn’t fucking care.”

“No,” Zayn protests automatically. “What? That's--Harry, no. I highly doubt that’s what he thinks.””

Harry is still half-scowling and half-crying.

Zayn snaps his fingers. “This practice thing. He thinks you just want practice. That’s what it is.”

“Zayn, no. I keep tellin’ you guys. He’s the one that _came up with it._  That’s what he wants. _He’s_ the one who wants that. He’s using me. And I knew it. I knew it from the start, and I went into it still. I shouldn’t even...I should’ve known...I mean, we’re best friends, right? So it’s always been sort of safer ‘cause we know each other. But not anymore.” Harry shakes his head. “It’s gone too far. Now I want to mate him and he doesn’t want that at all.”

“And how do you know that? How do you know he doesn’t want to mate you, too?”

Harry stonily stares at Zayn.

“You really think Louis really needs practice?” Zayn challenges. “Practice for what?”

“For his future mate.”

Zayn rolls his eyes.

“You must really think he’s a shitty person.”

Harry’s gapes open-mouthed at Zayn in utter confusion. “No, I don’t.”

“Well, you’re saying he’s using you. You’re saying he’s only been doin’ this shit with you for practice. Like you’re just a--a temporary thing until he moves on to the next. What a shitty thing to do to your best friend, huh?”

Harry’s quiet for a long time. “It was just supposed to be kissing. And you know I never believed the practice thing. He’s just too slow to call it what it was. Or, I mean. That’s what I thought. But we. Now it’s more. Now I feel a lot more than I ever thought I could. Now I...react.” Zayn nods, and Harry babbles on, “And then the next thing you know, I’m slobbering all over him, rubbing all over him…”

“And it’s still not practice,” Zayn finishes.

Harry shakes his head. “You’re not convincing me, so stop. Will does this all the time. There’s no explanation but mine.” Harry looks at Zayn and tries to smile self-deprecatingly. “And I’m pretty smart, you know.”

“You’re not right on this,” Zayn argues. “He’s waiting on you to tell him that you really want to mate. Have you told--”

“I turned my neck for him.”

Zayn’s eyes get big. “But….you _were_ in heat, so maybe--”

Harry laughs meanly. “That’s just more of a _reason._  He rejected me.” Harry’s eyes burn again. “Alphas just don’t ignore that if they like someone. It’s--It’s the worst thing he could’ve possibly done. I bet Liam wouldn’t’ve done that.”

When Zayn is quiet, Harry stares at him. “He wouldn’t, would he?”

Zayn sighs. “I don’t know, Harry. I’m not tryin’ to make you feel bad, but. Probably not.”

“I thought things were going good. And I thought that since he let me--you know, at the lake--that maybe he'd want. I don't even know.” Harry sniffs.

“There’s something goin’ on with him, then,” Zayn suggests. “There’s something wrong. Something is wrong here. Any Alpha would look at you and go crazy, especially if you showed your neck.”

This statement does nothing to lift Harry’s mood. He doesn’t _want_ other Alphas. He just wants Louis.

“So,” Harry says after a while. “You and Liam, huh.”

Zayn finally lays back on the bed. “Yeah.”

“Why do you wanna keep it a secret so bad?”

“My parents, mostly,” Zayn answers. “But…” He ends up shrugging.

“But what?”

“I think I’m tryin’ to keep my distance to test things out first. I don’t know. I don’t really trust Alphas. It’s a little pathetic how much I really like him,” Zayn says quietly.

“It's not pathetic.”

“It is. I _really_ like him. Too much.”

“He likes you, too. You've--you've had sex,” Harry whispers.

Zayn blushes.

“Wait.” Harry sits up. “How do you even do that?”

“How do I do what?”

“How do you even get to _be_ with Liam? Your parents are super strict.”

“Oh. Doniya helps me out. We tried lying about it once Liam and I started--whatever it is we’ve been doing, but it’s impossible. So she says she takes me to clinics ‘cause I’m due a heat even if I’m really not. And they believe her.”

“Oh, my God. They can’t tell when you come home you’ve actually been with someone, though?”

“Well, they’re Betas. They can’t really smell anything. Plus, I always make him use condoms, so it’s not like I smell like... _that_.”

“Oh. Sounds like a lot of condoms.”

Zayn laughs and makes a face. “Yeah. They’re like these big hammer-looking things. It’s really gross. But I don’t really care. As long as he has it on.”

“Will says lots of Alphas don’t like them, so at least Liam wears it.”

Whatever Zayn is going to say next is cut off by a knock at the bedroom door. He and Harry look to each other. A voice calls out, and luckily, it’s only Niall.

“Y’all done? Liam’s gonna leave and he wants you to go with him, Z.”

Zayn’s eyebrows furrow. “We’ve been here for less than an hour,” he groans, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe someone here could give you a ride later,” Harry suggests. “We really do need to get this thing memorized.”

“Yeah, I know,” Zayn mutters, sighing. “He’ll just have to wait. Whatever.”

* * *

Later, when Harry's convinced he's not just memorized but has perfected his French project, he quietly leaves his room and takes a place beside Austin in the kitchen. Without being asked, he begins pulling plates out of the cabinets and utensils out of drawers. As he ignores the protests that he doesn't have to do it, he sets the big dining room table anyway, feeling eyes on him--too many. The knowing eyes of all four adults. He keeps his own gaze diverted.

He's already said goodbye to Zayn, but instead of being out on the front porch waiting on a ride, he's now back in the house along with Niall and Liam. They’re in the den. Harry hears all of them speaking to Lottie in there and figures that their ride must've fallen through. Maybe he should go in there. Offer to ask one of the adults to take them home. Or ask Louis himself. But he doesn't.

He knows he's being rude by choosing to distance himself on purpose, but he doesn't want any more human interaction today. Except, as he's parading back and forth from the kitchen to the dining room in front of a pack of adults he's pretty sure can smell the remnants of his tears, he thinks maybe he does.

Preternaturally, Harry whips his head up when he finally smells Louis somewhere nearby. After the clinging from the dropped forks is finished sounding out, Harry stands up straight and squares his shoulders, completely alone and expectantly staring at the only doorway into the room. He's prepared for Louis to sniff him out and ask to take him somewhere private to talk again. He’s prepared to say yes. Pathetic.

Louis doesn't enter the dining room. When Harry finally hears his voice, it's far enough away to be muffled but much too loud in Harry's head to actually be so. His own feet follow the sound of it like it's personally calling out for him to do so.

“What the fuck--do you think--you’re doing here. Still.”

“I already told you,” Harry hears Liam answering just as he's peeking inside the den. “I didn't mean to start anything.”

Liam stands up, and Harry notices that Louis himself seems to grow taller. They both begin to walk to the center of the room where they then continue to walk around in a circle, neither of them breaking eye contact with one another.

“Louis, what are you out here for?” Lottie speaks up from the couch, sitting up and looking alert, then something else is said, but Harry misses it. In the matter of just a few seconds, Louis bends his upper body down, centers his weight in the meat of his legs, and charges at Liam. He effectively tackles him to the ground in one go, and immediately, they're hitting each other.

Harry gasps as Louis punches Liam's face--his nose, his jaw, the hard bone atop his eye. He punches and he punches and he punches, roaring and shouting things Harry can’t make out over the others’ shouts at the both of them to stop. Louis pins Liam between the couch and the coffee table with not a lot of room to wrestle nor hit, but hell if Louis doesn’t keep trying.

“Louis, what the hell is wrong with you, man?”

When Liam gets an arm free to push Louis’ head repeatedly into the side of the coffee table, Harry whimpers and rushes into the room. “Oh my God, stop! Please!”

A loud growl reverberates throughout the room, and Harry freezes just as Louis’ left hand loosens its grip on Liam's collar, his right hand paused in mid-air. As Harry moves behind Jay at the threshold of the door, watching everything with big eyes, he can't understand what's happening or why.

Jay is livid. “Louis. William. Tomlinson. Get upstairs. Your room. Alone. Now.”

Louis falters. He meets Harry’s eyes and stares.

His mother's Alpha voice is loud, and her eyes are blinding. “NOW.”

Louis lets his displeasure be known by roaring, but he obeys. He still stalls though, long enough for his uncle James to come behind him and literally lift his body off of Liam, and he fights the hold the entire time.

“Let me _go!"_

“I knew it,” James mutters to Jay, looking over Louis’ head as he easily holds back Louis’ flailing arms. “I told you.”

James gets tired of Louis fighting him and finally disarms him, keeping a menacing presence behind him, however. Louis, under the glare of his mother, walks away from Liam.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he spits at Liam before completely leaving the room. His sweaty skin brushes Harry's exposed arm as he walks by and trudges away.

Jay holds Harry's arm as he tries to follow, sighing “Louis!” in exasperation.

James motions to the stairs Louis is currently ascending. “I need to lock him up.”

“When you’re done,” Austin asks James, “maybe take care of.. your name’s Liam, isn't it?”

Liam’s just now getting up from the floor. “I don' neeb help. I gah’ it.”

Jacob is next to Harry out of nowhere, and he puts a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, kid?”

Harry nods slowly. He listens to Louis stomp up the stairs as he unconsciously touches his now-sweaty arm.

“You're shaking.”

“I'm fine.” Harry swallows. “What just happened?”

Jacob sighs. “He's in rut.”

Harry wants to cry again. Did that seriously just happen? Really? Simply looking at those pictures of omegas turned Louis on so much that it triggered his fucking rut?

Harry could never be like that. He could never be as sultry as the omegas in that magazine, never as curvy or as pretty. Hell, Louis himself has a better ass than Harry does. Harry's bottom lip begins quivering, and he turns away from the crowd cleaning up the mess in the den in order to get himself under control. For fuck’s sake.

“He's an absolute maniac is what he is,” Liam says thickly, holding his bleeding nose.

“Apparently, he did warn you to leave,” Jay reminds Liam. “Not that I'm excusing his actions at all.” She looks around at the broken furniture on the floor and sighs.

“Don't defend him,” Liam snarls. “He's an asshole. Broke my nose.”

“Oh, great,” James bemoans. “Not you, too.”

Liam grabs Zayn's hand and drags him off of the couch where he's been sitting frozen. “We're leaving.”

“But--my sister's already on her way,” Zayn argues.

“We'll walk.”

James intervenes at that point. “You’re not walking alone like this. I’ll take you home.”

“We’ll walk.”

“I’m taking you home,” James repeats, and Liam and Zayn follow him out of the door and into his car.

“What a damn testosterone blood-bath,” Niall muses, sitting back down on the couch next to Lottie. Harry doesn't ask how he's going to get home himself. He doesn't care.

“Hey, come with me for a minute,” Jacob’s soothing voice offers. “Looks like this is affecting you.”

Wiping his eyes, Harry lets himself be led downstairs, right into Jacob’s room.

Next to the giant bed, there's a sitting area with two fluffy chairs. Harry situates himself on the one to the left and sniffles. Jacob, sitting in the other chair, assesses him silently. From the table in between the chairs, he picks up a box of tissues and hands it to Harry.

“You alright?”

Harry shrugs.

“What’s going on in your head?”

Harry tries to laugh. “Too much.”

Jacob just nods.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry sits quietly, chewing his nails. “How old were you when you met James?”

Jacob has to think before answering. “I was a freshman still in undergrad, and he was a senior. Uh...so...that would've made me, what? Nineteen? God, that seems so long ago,” he ends with a smile.

“And how did you know you wanted to bond with him? Was it something both of you wanted to do? Like, did you talk about it?”

“Hmm, well. If you promise not to judge me, I’ll tell you the story.”

“I won’t judge you.”

Jacob smiles. “We met at a frat party. He was in a fraternity, and I wasn’t, but I got dragged along. We actually ended up together that night. _Hooking up,_  I think you guys call it now. Then I thought that was it. We didn't talk again for weeks. I was really embarrassed when he actually contacted me and asked me out on a date ‘cause I'd literally never just-- _been_ \--with someone I didn't even know and then never talked to them again. I probably shouldn't be telling you this,” he laughs. “I’m not condoning one-night stands. But it's the truth. So...We went on a few dates. I was still really nervous because he was so good looking. More so back then, even.” Jacob pauses dreamily for a few moments. “We fell in love along the way. Bonded about a year into it. We both just kinda knew we wanted to be mates. It happened naturally.”

“And now you have a family.”

Jacob gently smiles. “Yeah,” he says softly. “That took quite a bit of time, but. Yeah.”

“Well, that happened just perfectly, didn't it.” Harry tries not to sound bitter.

“We actually tried for years to get pregnant before I actually did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Jacob says kindly. “So what made you ask that?”

Harry brews silently, arms folded. Jacob's looking at him like he already knows the answer to his question.  Harry feels like being rude, and maybe because he knows he can get away with it with Jacob, he is. Instead of answering Jacob’s question, he accuses him.

“I feel like when you look at me, you know more than what you let on.”

Jacob chuckles. “That may be, yeah.”

“Then what do you want me to say? You already know everything.”

“Not necessarily,” Jacob says. “And anyway, it’s not a matter of what I know. This is about you. How you interpret things. How you feel about things.”

“I'm unhappy.”

“Anybody could look at you and see that. Well, most people.” The side of Jacob's mouth turns up. “The question is why exactly you are unhappy. Why you've been unhappy for so long.”

Harry chews on his lip.

“Talking generally helps people,” Jacob goes on. “Even if it’s just about nothing special. That’s what I’m here for. I promise you’ll feel better if you want to get it off your chest.”

A lone tear escapes Harry’s right eye, and he doesn’t bother wiping it.

“Is there anyone in the home you’d feel comfortable talking to?” Jacob asks. “Your mom?”

Harry’s fast to respond. “No.”

“Does it help that she's an omega like you are?”

Harry shrugs. “It's not...the same, you know. She’s a really sweet woman. I don't want to bother her with anything extra. And she’s...my mom.”

Jacob nods. “Your dad? Maybe it’s different with him?”

“God, no.” Harry shudders. His father is the very last person he would go to about anything-- _anything_ \--related to omega issues.

“Sister?”

Harry shakes his head very quickly.

Jacob opens his arms. “Well, I'm here. Anytime.”

“It's still weird.” Harry makes a face because he knows what he’s just said is rude.

Jacob nods. “Well, I'll leave it up to you. I'm here if you want to talk. Or to sit quietly with you if that's what you want. I know I’m related to him, but anything you say to me in confidence won’t leave this room,” he finishes politely.

“Thanks.”

Harry doesn't say anything further, but he doesn't leave the room, either.

Jacob leans in closer, elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped. “Do Louis’ ruts usually affect you like this?”

Harry shrugs, even though the answer is no. He's never actually seen Louis in the middle of a rut. He can't believe it happened so quickly...just from looking at pictures of naked omegas.

“It just...happened really fast.”

“That can happen, yeah.”

“Do you know... why that happens?”

“What, quick-onset ruts?”

“Yeah.”

Jacob opens his mouth to speak and then falters. “Various reasons.”

“...Like?”

“I can't really say, I'm afraid. Much like heats, it all depends.”

Harry just nods. His thoughts have been confirmed.

“Some of these things will make more sense one day. Ruts and those things. You'll understand better as you get older.”

Harry slumps back into the chair. It smells warm and homey and keeps him from completely losing it. “I'm so tired of people saying that. I just want to understand _now._  I want answers _now_. I don’t understand what I’m missing.”

“What makes you think you're missing something?”

“You just told me I’ll understand some day. That means I don’t understand now. What don’t I understand?”

Jacob takes a deep breath. “Now that is a loaded question.”

“Everyone says all these mysterious things all the time and then you and my mom and even James and Jay are always looking at each other like you're talking with your eyes whenever I’m around.”

Jacob nods. “You're very observant.”

“Yeah, well, I'm an omega.” Harry crosses his arms. “Isn't it my role to be quiet and just watch things happen around me?”

“That doesn't describe you at all, and you know it. Being an omega isn't a prison-sentence, Harry. At the very core, we’re very different from Alphas and Betas. But it doesn’t mean we’re _less_ than them. And it certainly doesn’t mean we aren’t still people.”

“So, what am I missing?”

Jacob sighs. “It’s not necessarily that you’re missing anything, Harry. It’s just...life. It happens at its own pace. There’re stages everyone goes through...that everyone has to go through. People learn as they go.”

“But it's not fair. All of this stuff just _happens,_  and then I have no clue what it even is until way after the fact. I can read a billion books on stuff, but I still can’t, like...recognize it when the stuff is even going on. I just want answers.”

“So you’re confused,” Jacob summarizes.

“I stay confused.”

“Me, too,” Jacob admits. He sighs. “I’m not being helpful at all, I fear. Let’s go back to you. Louis’ rut. It happened quickly and upset you--”

Harry smiles. “You’re a good therapist.”

Jacob smirks. “You're not my patient. I'm just having a conversation with you.”

“Okay.”

“So. What just happened has upset you, and you’re essentially questioning the reasons behind why it happened so fast,” Jacob summarizes.

“Oh, I know why it did.”

Jacob's eyebrows lift a tad.

Harry knows his eyes are already puffy, and he sighs, rubbing them. “He was down here looking at a magazine and I saw him with it, and it--I can’t explain it. It just made me so sad. So I ran upstairs and haven’t been able to stop crying since. Stupid, isn’t it?”

“What magazine would’ve made you that sad?”

“Omega Monthly.”

“Ah…” Jacob says slowly. “ _Omega Monthly_...And that’s something that makes you uncomfortable?”

Harry shrugs. “I don't know.”

“You had a reaction to it, you said. You became sad.”

“The omegas in the magazine...aren’t like me.”

“They aren’t like many omegas. But go on.”

Harry blinks. “It sucks to compare yourself to other people, that’s all.”

“That's true, but why do you feel the need to compare in the first place?”

“...Because I'm an omega.”

“Try again.”

Harry sighs. “Because. I want...I don't know, Jacob. Everything's so freakin’ hard. Why can't it just be like you and James? Or Jay and Austin?”

“Harry, Jay’s relationships haven't been easy. And if I was your age when James and I met, I have a feeling it wouldn't have been quite as easy as my story implied.”

Tears well up in Harry’s eyes again. “ _Why,_  though? Why isn't it just possible? Why can't things just _work out_ at my age? Why does it have to be so complicated?”

“No one’s saying it won’t work out, or can’t. But being a teenager is extremely difficult as it is, and add hormones and heat cycles into the mix, it’s downright crazy. That’s what I was trying to say earlier...about stages everyone goes through...It’s just life. There’s so much going on in high school. Bodies think they’re ready for mating, but they’re normally not. Emotionally, they’re not. And everyone runs around making rash and bad decisions because the prefrontal cortex in your brain is still developing, and--” he sighs. “Sorry, but I could just go on and on and on.”

“Some Alphas don't do any of that, though. They don't make any rash decisions. Some of them make no decisions at all.”

Jacob stares at Harry-- _into_ Harry--quietly. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’m pretty sure.” Harry frowns, feeling guilty for talking so badly about Louis. He shouldn’t be saying any of this out loud, but he’s honestly still mad.

“Alphas are a bit slow on the uptake sometimes. They mature slower than we do. _But,_ ” Jacob says pointedly, “that doesn't mean they don't care. Some of them care more than you know.”

“How’s it even possible to know how much someone cares if they don’t show it?”  Harry grumbles.

“Don’t show it?”

“Yeah,” Harry clarifies. “If someone doesn’t show another person they care, how is that person supposed to know that other person _does_ care, then?”

Jacob’s eyes are to the ceiling, the wall. Anything but Harry. “They don’t try to impress this other person? Or make this person laugh? Buy them things?”

“Those are friendly things, not mate things. I’m talking about mate things.”

“Kissing in the dark isn’t really a thing friends do, but we’ll pretend like it is.”

Harry blushes and doesn’t respond. He thinks that Jacob knows that he and Louis have done more than just kiss in the dark, and he doesn’t want that brought up.

“Most of their signals are physical only,” Jacob explains. “They’re not as cute and pleasant as we are. They show off a lot. Posture. Maybe even to the point of...fighting.”

Besides his sniffing, Harry's silent.

Jacob leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees again. “You’re very bookish, aren’t you?”

Harry laughs loudly at that. “No one would ever describe me as bookish. My name isn’t Hermione.”

“You’re smart, then,” Jacob gives. “Studious. Good at school.”

“Yeah, I’m smart. It’s not hard. Really, high school isn’t hard. It’s the amount of work that’s the hard part. You just gotta stay on top of it.”

“Yet, despite the stress and everything happening outside of school, you remain at the top of your classes and have been for years.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, suddenly angry, “because I’ve had a stupid dream my whole life of being chosen to skip grades in order to be with--” he cuts himself off.

Jacob’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. “Harry,” he says softly.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.”

“That's completely fine, but let me just say this. At your age, those things--the stupid jokes to make you laugh, the-the...what is it he does? Walks around with those cut-off shirts to show his arms? Buying you breakfast at McDonald’s...Those are mate things.”

Harry deeply frowns.

“Like I said, Alphas are just slow on the uptake.”

Harry stiffly stands up, and before walking out of the room, he looks back at Jacob. “I was being serious when I asked earlier, though…How am I supposed to know what he’s--what someone’s feeling then if they don’t say it or show it? Or, like. If they show it one day and then don’t the next? He acts like I gross him out half the time.”

Jacob sighs. “If you’re ever worried about somebody’s true intentions, you can always smell it. All the time, not just during a heat cycle. Start trying to pay attention to scents in the air. They all have a source. All feelings have odors. As you all mature, everyone’s senses will get better, and true feelings will be easier to determine. Or, at least I pray they will,” Jacob mutters. “God help us all if they don't. I don't know how much more of this teen angst I can take.”


	21. getting the feeling you wanna leave this all behind

With a noise sounding like a large sigh mixed with a grunt, Harry pulls back the covers and gets out of his bed like he’s mad at it for keeping him from sleeping. It’s been hours now since he’s retreated to his room after the semi-therapy session with Jacob, and he can’t relax after having so many things thrown at him so quickly. So many switching emotions. He’s restless, and he won’t stop _thinking_.

The stickiness in the air that comes in the middle of August clings to his skin like sweat that won’t wash off, making it all worse. He’s tried sleeping without covers. He’s tried sleeping with covers. He’s tried reading, he’s tried counting sheep--stupidly--he’s tried stuffing his pillow over his head to black out the light streaming inside from the moon and smother this thoughts. He’s even tried doing yoga, hoping it’d make his muscles tired enough to tell his brain to turn off.

Nope.

Finally, he settles on pacing around like a weirdo, ultimately stopping in front of the mirror in the corner of the room after exhausting all available walking square-footage.

First staring at the reflection of just his face, Harry’s eyes travel up and down his own body. His hair is messy, but he likes it, and his face is clear today. He’s not horribly bad-looking. He’s not. At least not in the dark. He wonders if other people see something different when they look at him. What they think.

Turning around, Harry looks at his backside from around his shoulder. He’s wearing loose sleep pants, and his legs and butt look sort of good. Nothing crazy that would turn tons of heads, but not bad. Even though he’s lanky. Again, he wonders what other people see when they look at him. If they even look at this part of him. Well, he doesn’t really care about what _other people_ think. Just one person, really.

The conversation he had with Jacob left him with some feeling inside him. Some... _thing_. Some sliver of hope about his current situation and why things have been happening the way they have been. And now Harry can’t stop thinking of anything else. Just Louis. A made-up future with him. Him in a suit coming home from work to Harry cooking and cleaning their house and being domestic. Them on vacation together. Them lying in bed together, older, laughing, truly happy. Louis’ smile would cover his face like it used to do.

Louis’ eyes. Louis’ lips. Louis’ collarbones peeking out of the shirts he wears, his cheekbones when he’s serious, his--his--his fucking fingers holding a pencil when he sloppily does his homework. Or when they touch him. Or when they form together in a fist and _break somebody’s nose._

God. The worst part about that happening--besides Liam’s nose probably being broken, which is just awful, really, it is--is that somewhere inside of him, Harry _liked_ watching it. Though he’d cowered behind an adult just on pure impulse, he'd actually been entranced, even intrigued, by the fact that Louis held enough strength to pin another Alpha to the ground and punch with such a force it broke their nose.

And the thought should genuinely scare him. Not just the Louis-breaking-someone’s-nose part, but the fact that Harry’s _impressed_ by it. Violence should be a worrying thing. Especially violence that’s between people he’s close with. What happened’ll probably have big repercussions when it comes to Harry's own relationships with Liam and Zayn, but strangely, he isn’t even worried about any of that. It’s just Louis in his thoughts. Only Louis. The more he visualizes how intense Louis looked earlier in the afternoon, the damper his underwear gets. And he’s hot enough already as it is.

God, this has gotten so out of control. This isn’t just a crush. Louis’s completely inside his head and won’t leave. It’s starting to impact his...his _bodily functions._

Harry’ll just have to find another way to get Louis to fall in love with him. To want to mate him. One last, crazy attempt.

Jacob had told him earlier in the night that he and James hooked up before they really even knew each other. That they had a one-night stand and then found out along the way that they wanted to be together. And look at them now. They’re bonded and have a baby. They have a happy life.

Why couldn’t that be possible for him and Louis, then? It’s been Harry's entire goal in the first place, for Louis to find out “along the way” of doing what they’ve been doing that he wanted to mate Harry.... But maybe if they actually did... _it,_ that would make things different. It would show Louis that Harry would be a good potential mate. In every way.

Harry being in heat hadn’t worked because they’d been drinking. All other times hadn’t worked because they’d been drinking. He always has to drink to give himself some courage, and it seems like that’s all any of his friends do anymore. But now there wouldn’t be that. It’d just be Harry pursuing Louis, really _really_ pursuing him, so Louis would have to understand that’s what Harry really wants. Not because he’s drunk or in heat. But because he _wants_ to.

Harry hopes. He feels like he’s tried this before… Back when everyone was telling him to be aggressive...

But this is different. It’s different. He intuitively knows that it’s right, that it’s the only thing that’ll really satisfy the deep, burning, unsettled feeling he lives with these days.

He’s outside of Louis’ bedroom before he realizes he’s even walked out of his room and climbed the stairs, and he stares at Louis’ door with weird clarity. When he sees all the locks on it, though, his excitement suddenly drops.

It’s locked. It’s freaking locked. Of course it is. He’s forgotten. For years he’s gone in and out of this door and never paid real attention to the stacks of deadbolts drilled into the side of it meant to keep Louis from breaking out during ruts. Louis had even made a big deal about it when his mom first installed them so many years ago, making sure that Harry knew why they were there. Harry remembers blushing while Louis explained that they had to switch out all the key-locks after his first real rut when his mother lost the key and accidentally left him stranded inside. He’d broken his window that night and escaped the house, naked.

“Wait a minute…”

The locks are just turn-latch deadbolts now. They’re not hard to get past at all. All Harry has to do is switch them to the side.

Harry bites his lip and smiles, and that excitement from before comes back. Three locks in a column, boom boom boom, and miraculously they all switch to the side with nothing more than a light click. He stares at the door in open-mouthed, dumbfounded shock. It was that easy.

Placing his hand on the doorknob finally, Harry’s heart throbs inside his chest. He can’t believe he’s about to do this, that this is how this is going to happen after all this time. Slowly, heart now so loud he’s afraid someone in another bedroom can hear it, he turns the doorknob,only to discover that it won’t actually turn. The door is locked from the inside, too.

Because of course it is.

“Man,” Harry whispers. Turning his head and putting an ear to the wood, Harry tries to listen inside. There’s no noise at all coming from in there, nothing to even signal that Louis’s still there. Harry’s hands rise to press against the door on either side of his head, pushing in vain. He wants to knock on the door, wants to bang his fists, but instead, in despondency, he thuds his hand against the wood instead, three times, willing himself not to cry.

He’s fucking fifteen years old now. He can’t just cry at _everything._  He’s been crying all evening.

Abruptly, the door roughly opens, so quickly that Harry falls forward. He lands straight into Louis and gasps when, instead of falling down, he’s held up by Louis’ hands. Louis’s...there. Completely naked and sweaty. With his hair sticking up in every direction. Holding him.

With his mouth dropped and his eyes wide, Harry gasps again when Louis shuts the door with his foot and urgently pulls Harry closer to him.

While he’s being dragged--still trying to stand up properly--Harry’s eyes quickly drop to Louis’ privates. He’s sticking up there, too, huge and fleshy, and a wave of desire engulfs him when it touches him, something more powerful than Harry has ever, ever remembered. It’s not that Harry has ever thought of Louis as anything less than an Alpha, but now, there’s no denying it.

Against the wall now, no longer wearing a shirt, Harry can just mumble while Louis puts both hands on the sides of his face and kisses him without warning. It’s rough. Louis’ lips smash against Harry’s own, and at first, Harry’s tense, still a bundle of nerves, but he quickly relaxes. As much as he can for feeling so excited. Finally, Louis’s really taking the lead. Finally, he’s acting like he isn’t repulsed by Harry. Harry's just so happy. “Mmmff.”

“God, you smell good,” Louis utters, and he looks at Harry the same way he does in Harry’s dreams. “Look good.”

Then they’re pressed close, really kissing despite Harry’s huge smile, and Harry’s sliding down the wall so low that Louis becomes the tall one. Their mouths smack together, and it’s an energy that Harry has to try hard to actually catch up to after not kissing like this in _forever,_ but after a few moments of trying, he does. Louis smells _so good._ Harry can smell him--like, smell his need--and it’s doubling the anticipation he already feels. What Jacob had said is true. He can _smell it._

Louis’ skin touching him feels damp and sweaty, and it just covers the sweat already on Harry’s skin and adds to the dampness inside his underwear. This is going to be so good. It’s going to feel _so good._

After Louis pushes Harry firmly in place against the wall, his hands move and feel like they’re suddenly all over him, groping and feeling and yanking at clothing. Harry struggles to help out, but his hands are just pushed away. When Harry’s without his sleep pants anymore, Louis leans in and presses all of his weight back into him, and Harry gulps.

Louis’s hard. Louis’s really, really hard.

Wishing he could be in the bed but somehow still perfectly happy right where he is, Harry’s head falls back against the wall, eyes droopy.

Louis seeks out Harry’s mouth and speaks into it as he thrusts his hips forward. “You came for me.” He groans even more words while he rubs himself off against Harry’s groin, but Harry can’t comprehend them, just the powerful vibration leaving Louis’ throat. He’s unable to speak himself. It’s really hot in the room, and that added to the pressure of Louis so close to him--rubbing on him--is making the veins in Harry’s neck pulsate, making his throat constrict in a way that he can only whine, making his legs shake.

As Louis’ hand trails downwards to grab ahold of the meat of Harry’s ass and then further inside into the wetness of Harry’s crack, Harry closes his eyes in bliss. His mouth opens in a soundless shape.

Harry still has his underwear on, but he’s gotten so wet that the fabric there is thin, so thin he feels Louis’ fingertips on him just as if there were nothing there at all, and it’s amazing. In no time at all, Louis’ fingers there turn rough and he begins shaking, painfully biting on Harry’s lower lip as he groans in one long, continuous sound. It sounds almost violent, and Harry’s panting so loudly as he tries to breathe that nothing makes sense.

Harry’s getting drenched in Louis’ sweat, and it makes his skin burn almost like he’s the one in heat. It should be gross because it’s literally slimy, but it’s not. A different scent travels in the air, a beautiful thick scent, and while Louis shakes, he gives out one final gut-punching grunt, slumps down, and truly puts all his body weight against him.

At Harry’s neck, Louis sticks out his tongue and laves at Harry’s pulse point before appearing to fall asleep standing up, so Harry trails his hands up and down Louis’ back, still shaky but feeling a deep satisfaction. He’s been in the room for literally a minute, and that’s all the time it took to cause his entire mood to shift.

He’s also feeling very, very sticky and hard, too, and his underwear are torn, but he knows what’s about to happen next. And he knows he’s ready for it. He’s never been more sure of anything in his life. Squirming against Louis’ body, lifting a leg to hook around Louis’ calf, Harry’s halted by Louis’ nudity as he pushes himself off Harry. With the way Louis’s now standing, Harry has a great view of his knot, and he swallows at the thought of it about to fit inside him. He doesn’t care if Louis just had a big orgasm. If he’s like Harry in heat, he can come again and again and again.

Harry shudders and looks at Louis’ face. It’s strange how eyes can communicate, but looking at Louis looking back at him with irises that smolder, it’s as if he and Louis are the same person, like Louis can see into Harry’s head and read his thoughts. Like he knows him. Like he _loves_ him. Even in this crazy situation, that’s the feeling he has deep inside. It’s invasive and vulnerable and everything Harry’s ever wanted. He’s so happy and horny he could cry. What a whirlwind of a day.

More slick gushes out of him, and at the feeling of it, he makes some noise he can’t help, squirming some more while pushing his underwear down. Harry thinks better of his position and begins to turn around.

Before Harry can actually turn around however, things change. The mood inside Harry diminishes abruptly, turning him cold. The buzzing in his stomach softens, the niggling sensation in his underwear depleted. It’s in that exact moment Louis’ eyes change, and Harry can see the confusion covering his pale face as he stares at the smushed-up goo covering Harry’s stomach and briefs, can hear the gasp as his mouth drops. Nothing smells the same as before. Harry’s left wondering if he did something wrong. He heavily blinks.

Louis’ voice is a sharp whisper. “Fuck _."_

And Harry can’t speak. His eyes pull together in a confusion of his own.

“How are you here?”

“You unlocked the door.” Harry runs a tentative hand down Louis’ forearm. “...Remember?”

“ _Christ,_ ” Louis swears. He pushes himself completely off of Harry. There’s Harry’s shirt on the floor he roughly picks up and wipes himself off with. When he’s done, he holds it in front of his groin like a shield. “You can’t be here. Why--How was the door unlocked? It’s locked from the outside to keep me from---” Louis drops his mouth. “Harry...”

Harry blinks a few times before his eyebrows furrow even more. He stands fully up and looks to the door, tentatively pulling up his underwear. “...Are you...mad at me or something?”

“What time is it?”

Harry shrugs. “Two or three. It’s okay, though, no one’s--”

“Shit, Harry, _get out,_ ” Louis orders urgently. “I’m in fucking _rut_.”

“I...know you are...I just thought--”

Harry doesn’t move. This can’t be right. Louis just--he just _dry-humped_ Harry. Well, sort of dry. Harry doesn’t really know what to call what they just did. But what the hell. Louis can’t be kicking him out now.

He definitely does, though. Just as roughly as he pulled Harry inside the room, Louis pulls Harry off the wall and literally pushes him out into the hall. He looks at him in a way Harry can’t describe and says, “Your lip’s bleeding,” before closing the door.

There are big, fat tears in Harry’s eyes as he hears the door lock again. He tries opening the door immediately, and he can’t. For two minutes, he stands alone in the hall in just his underwear before coming to terms with the fact that he’s been truly locked out for good.

He walks downstairs feeling like hyperventilating at the second rejection from Louis he’s had in a week. He’s failed. Yet again. This time, definitively.

He can’t feel his legs as he walks out of the house and into the backyard. He stands by the pool in just his underwear, staring at the water. There are muffled insect noises from all around. Like there used to be when he and Louis would stay up all night talking outside his old condo.

Harry brings his fingers to his lips. When he lowers them, blood coats his fingertips. He takes a deep breath and jumps in the pool, deliberately staying underwater long enough to make his head hurt.

He cries himself to sleep that night. Truly cries. The kind of crying that just won't stop regardless of the dehydration it’s causing him, the sobbing that can only be muffled by biting the back of his hand.

The next afternoon when he finally wakes up, his head sounds like there are a thousand televisions simultaneously turned on when his mom tells him that she’s finally found an apartment to rent just in time for school to start. They’ll be moving out of Jay’s house within the next week. It’ll make things easier on everyone, Anne says. Harry supposes she’s right.

 

* * *

 

 

“I really have--not the best control when I’m in rut, and you know--I don’t want you to be around me like that,” Louis admits softly. He takes a deep breath. He’s bad at giving apologies and maybe worse at admitting his shortcomings. “It won’t happen again, okay?”

Louis looks into the mirror. He’ll never be able to tell Harry this shit. Why Harry would ever talk to him again is the real question he should be asking himself instead of, _“What should I say to him?”_

Louis looks at this reflection and punches his mirror, breaking it into countless shards in one motion. He’ll never fucking be able to say that to Harry’s face. He’ll never be able to even address it. What the fuck. Harry fucking knows this shit already. He knows it. Shit, it’s Harry’s own father who’s made the threats, and--Louis’s told Harry multiple times about this--countless times--just--Why the fuck does this shit have to be so hard? The fucking locks were to keep him from doing shit like that. Now he’s fucking attacked Harry and Harry’s fucking moving out.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Louis heads straight for the pantry and steals whatever food he sees laying around, shoving it into his backpack. Walking back out, he slings his bag over one shoulder and walks with determination to the front door, only to be stopped by Austin, difficulty moving a broom back and forth along the floor of the foyer.

His mom approaches. “You don’t need to be sweeping,” she tells a very large-stomached Austin, taking the broom from him. She looks at Louis, assessing him. “What did you do?”

Louis lowers his bandaged hand from the strap of his backpack and walks around her to the front door. “Nothing.”

“Where you goin’?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Louis answers, opening the door. “Out.”

In Oli’s basement, after entering the room to a chorus of shocked noises that he’s even come, Louis rolls his eyes and unloads his snacks on a small coffee table in front of the dingy couch everyone is lounging on. He takes a seat on the old rocking chair in the corner that he always does--or always used to--and blinks his eyes to get used to the darkness of the room.

“You haven’t toked with us in forever, Mr. Hotshot,” Calvin says, then turns to his side. “Pack another one, Oli.”

Louis doesn’t feel like arguing but still does. “Yeah? Well, who got you what you’re smoking now?”

“Not those losers from your theater group you’ve been ditchin’ us for,” Calvin says, laughing.

Louis blinks heavily and slowly. Fuck theater. He won’t get the lead, anyway. He holds a hand out and is satisfied when the weight from the bowl Oli’s just packed balances in his palm.

“What’s up your ass?” Calvin asks when Louis doesn’t play along.

“I’m fine,” Louis mutters, flicking his lighter and joining it to the little bits of fine weed shoved sloppily inside the glass bowl. He scrunches his face up.

Calvin goes on, “You’re actually _this_ pissed I couldn’t get that Liam kid to leave your house, aren’t you?”

Louis coughs. “Huh?”

“Get over it. I told you I wasn’t gonna get involved in that shit.”

“It’s whatever. He didn’t press charges.” Louis laughs without mirth and stares out into the room, noticing for the first time the other two faces in the room--people he doesn’t really know. He passes the bowl to one of them.

The bowl goes around once. Twice. Everyone stares ahead at the tv screen. Some channel playing music videos. The smoke gets thick in the air.

Oli finally says something, but Louis’s high now and can’t concentrate. “What?”

“Did you guys finally do anything?” Oli leans in closer. “Are you still together?”

“Who?”

“You and Harry.”

“We never--” Louis shakes his head, leaving it at that.

“You should’ve brought him here. I hate being the only omega when we chill.”

Louis shakes his head again. There wouldn’t be anything for Harry to do here. All they ever do is smoke weed and watch television. Sometimes when it’s not a thousand fucking degrees outside they’ll play soccer or skate or something.

“Did somethin’ happen?”

“What do you care?” Louis closes his eyes and hums. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No one ever wants to talk to me about stuff,” Oli whines. “I’m the one who can--”

Calvin gives Oli a look. “It’s not worth it, dude. Don’t be annoying.”

"Fine. Just saying. I’m an omega. I could give you guys tips and shit.”

“Look, can I just relax?” Louis gripes, opening his eyes. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it.”

The rest of the day passes much better. Louis even starts feeling happy again. Getting a little high makes all his problems disappear. Everything’ll be okay. One day.

* * *

 

It’s a hard realization for Harry when he goes through the past few months in his head and realizes he’s been correct this whole time. Despite wanting so desperately to believe his friends (and even Louis’ uncle) that it was different, it wasn’t. Practicing was all this thing ever was for Louis. Just practicing.

Some really tiny part of Harry always actually secretly believed that Louis just _called_ it practicing because he didn’t know what else to call it, but now he knows better. And he doesn’t care that he’s crying every night now. It makes him feel better. He used to hate himself for crying, but he doesn’t know if he can even feel anymore.

Louis wants to be with someone else. Clearly. Harry just wishes he knew _who._  He knows now what Louis wanted to start this all for: Harry was just as inexperienced as he was in the very beginning of whatever they want to call this stupid thing--practicing--and he was a lifelong friend, too, so that’s why. That’s why he wanted to do it with Harry all along. He knew Harry wouldn’t judge-- _couldn’t_ judge, actually--if Louis was bad at kissing or anything.

But Harry isn’t going to be used anymore. He’s not.

Like every single time something weird happens between Harry and Louis, they inevitably end up acting like it never even did. Even though Harry plays a thousand scenarios in which he confidently tells Louis that this thing they’ve been doing needs to stop, he never can actually do it.

In the time after Louis’ rut, it's easier than Harry thought it’d be to fake the acceptance of Louis’ awkward not-apology--like he’s saying sorry with his actions without ever saying sorry--easier than he thought it’d be to pretend like nothing major even happened that night. After all, Harry’s gotten good at doing that. It’s normal at this point.

What’s different is that this time he forces himself to face the rejection, not bury it, and accept that there was never anything besides a friends-with-benefits thing between him and Louis. And he’s accepted that that’s over, too. It’s gone on for too long. Fucked with his feelings. If Louis wants to keep it up, well then--Harry’s just gonna have to be strong. He can’t handle it anymore. It’ll have to go back to strictly friends-only. Back when things were easy.

It’s sort of easy again already. It’s sort of easy to not dwell on it so much due to how busy Harry’s life suddenly becomes. With school about to start, there’s all his summer homework he has to finish up. For three nights in a row he sleeps over at Zayn’s house to rehearse their French project. Then Louis’ uncle takes him out for _three days in a row_ to shop for new school clothes and supplies. Then, of course, there’s the packing-up-of-his-belongings-and-moving-out part.

Louis and James and Jay help lift and carry what small amount of boxes Harry and his mom have to take with them to their car, and Louis even follows them in his own car to help carry all the boxes inside their new apartment. Harry wishes he wouldn’t. It makes the air smell like him and makes him feel like crying. He politely says thank you anyway, and Louis stands around chatting for a while before he leaves for work. His mom looks at Harry strangely after Louis leaves, and Harry acts oblivious to it.

When he empties his last box and puts his final book on his bookshelf--his very own bookshelf in his very own room--Harry realizes that that’s it. He’s here now. This is his new home. In the stillness of the room when he can’t be distracted any longer, of course he thinks about Louis again. He never really stops, but when it’s quiet, that’s when it smothers him. The sorrow. About how fate had put him and Louis together in the same house for an entire season, and how still, nothing happened.

He’s still unmated. Not good enough. Not what Louis really wants outside of just the physical stuff.  And now that’s over, too.

He sighs.

Anyway. He has new school supplies to start off the year with for once, so that’s exciting.

 

* * *

 

Ted dies on a Tuesday, and after staying up all night smoking a half a pack of cigarettes outside, Louis spends the next two entire two days digging a hole in the backyard under the blistering sun. That’s what you’re supposed to do when your pet of over ten years gets too sick to live. You don’t burn them and keep their ashes over your fireplace like his mom suggests. You make them a grave.

Covering Ted up with the dirt is the saddest thing Louis can remember ever having to see. All he can think about is how he never even was a good owner. He hadn’t taken Ted for a walk in years.

He meets up with Calvin again and gets high after the burial. Everyone thinks his shitty mood is because of Harry. And yeah--things aren’t the same with them. Not since he attacked him. Not since Harry moved out. It’s more reason to smoke. The pressure of everything is so high Louis feels like he’s drowning.

 

* * *

 

“Biggest party of the summer, guys,” Will sings to himself in Harry’s new room. “Last one before school starts.”

Zayn, surprisingly goofy, sings back. “ _Last one before school starts. Last one before schooool starts._ ”

“What, we’re going now?” Harry asks incredulously from his bed, sitting up. “I thought we weren’t goin’.”

Zayn jumps on the bed and straddles Harry. He looks him in the eye. “Of course we are, Harry,” he says very seriously, and then, cracking a smile, he cracks up.

“You’re nuts,” Harry says, pushing him off and chuckling despite his mood. “Anyway, you guys can go. I’m not gonna.”

“Like shit you’re not going!” Will exclaims. “Did you not hear us? It’s the weekend before school starts. It’s the _biggest_ party of the summer.”

“I don’t _wanna,_ ” Harry mopes. “What am I gonna do? Sit on a couch while people I don’t know get drunk around me and puke everywhere?”

“Um, no. Have _fun_. _Enjoy_ yourself.”

“I can enjoy myself just fine here.”

“And _read_? Yeah right.” Will starts rummaging through Harry’s closet. “Dude. You have so many nice outfits now.” Without asking, he reaches for a hanger and replaces his t-shirt with one of Harry’s. He also silently goes through Harry’s dresser drawers for a while, throwing clothes at Harry when he’s clearly just picked something out.

“Wear this with those tight shorts.”

Harry holds up what Will’s just thrown. It’s a plain white tank top. “What tight shorts?”

“The yellow ones.”

Harry drops his mouth. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

“You’ll look hot.” Will puts Harry’s sunglasses on his face for him and then a cap on his head--backwards--and orders, “Get dressed. We’re going soon.”

“I don’t know why I even listen to you,” Harry mumbles, but still, he gets up, walking to the corner of his room where he changes his clothes. He removes the stupid sunglasses from his face, though. It’s nighttime.

“Who’s picking us up?”

“Niall and his brother.”

“What’s with his brother, anyway?” Zayn pipes up. “He’s, like, in college, and he keeps going to all these high school parties and giving us beer and stuff.”

“That’s not all he gives,” Will skips to a bag he has on the floor and dramatically pulls out a big bottle of liquor. He opens it and drinks straight out of the container. When he’s done wincing, he licks his lips and smiles.

“How _well_ do you know his brother?” Harry’s face turns suspicious. “Do not tell me that--”

Will keeps grinning, ignoring Harry and shoving the bottle in his hands. “Here, your turn.”

Harry meets Zayn’s eyes. The last time he had shots of liquor was at Zayn’s house, and that had ended horribly.

“Just a little won’t hurt,” Zays says with a shrug.

Harry makes a face when the odor from the brown liquid assaults his nose, but he still drinks it. He sarcastically says “ _yayy"_  when he’s finished. Zayn takes it from him next.

“Grumpy ass,” Will says. “This is exactly why you need to go.”

“I don’t have a good track record at parties, Will,” Harry whines. He looks down at himself. He doesn’t want to wear these clothes. They’re too form-fitting. There aren’t even any pockets. He wants to wear loose, shapeless clothes. Clothes that make him blend into the wall. A thought of standing against a wall wearing much, much less flickers in his head before diminishing.

“Because you always go with some stupid-ass scheme in the back of your head to get Louis to mate you or something. This time you won’t be doing that, will you? You’ve finally moved on?”

Harry blinks, face unchanging. If anything, his frown just gets deeper. “My goal is to forget he even exists.” He shoves the phone he’s been looking at all night into the waistband of his shorts by his hip.

“That's the spirit,” Will says.

 

* * *

 

Louis doesn’t even show up at the party. And it’s not even that big of a party. With Calvin not chasing after Will anymore, Harry guesses Louis has no reason to go anymore. Harry guesses he’s happy about that. No need to add anxiety on top of gloom.

Finding himself watching a beer pong tournament in a garage for much of the night while his friends enjoy themselves in other areas of this random person’s house, Harry’s surprised to find that, after Will finally shows up to play and makes Harry be his teammate, he’s gotten pretty damn good at the game somehow. They win two games in a row. It soon draws a crowd.

Drunk Alphas play against them next, all their friends gathering around. It’s very weird to be stared at as a desirably unbeatable omega team, especially since Harry’s wearing next-to-nothing and Will keeps putting on a show for everybody, but since Harry’s only been taking tiny sips of beer when he’s had to, he hasn’t gotten really drunk at all. Staying sober makes it...just a game.

Soon there’s enough people that they begin standing next to the actual table, on all sides. An Alpha stands beside Harry. The weird guy from school. The guy that always looks at him in class and at parties. Preston.

“You’re good,” he says. Like he knows Harry. He sips on his drink and keeps staring at Harry from over the rim of his cup.

“Yeah, right,” Harry mutters. That earns him a strange look. “Oh. I mean. Am I?” he fixes. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Could I give you a pointer, though?”

“Um. Sure.”

Preston gets behind Harry and, being taller than him, leans his chin over Harry’s shoulder. “Celebrity shot!” he calls out, putting his hand over Harry’s. He moves Harry’s hand for him, positioning it before taking control of Harry’s shot. The ball flies out and lands perfectly in the other team’s cup.

“And that’s how it’s done.” He moves beside Harry again. “Do it like that and you’ll be champ all night.”

Harry nods and touches his neck where Preston’s just rubbed his face.

Will has started to suck, and the other team’s about to win. Harry doesn’t want to keep playing. To make it look like he’s legitimately trying, though, he closes one eye while he shoots next, but he purposefully applies too much pressure, making the ball fly off the table. He and Will lose shortly after that, and Harry escapes the ruckus in the garage from the champion Alphas, quickly pulling Will behind him by the hand.

They’re soon in another room. Will flops down on a chair and holds his stomach, laughing.

“What?”

Will shakes his head, grinning stupidly. He’s so drunk he can’t speak coherently, but he puts his hands out in front of his face like there’s an imaginary person there he’s making out with.

“ _Stop,_ ” Harry tells him over the noise from the music. “He’s gross.”

“He’s not gross. He’s jus’ not Louis. Give someone else a chance, huh?” Will has one eye squinted as he looks in the general direction of Harry.

“Just because you give _everybody_ a chance doesn’t mean--”

Will flicks Harry off at the same time he widely opens his legs and laughs.

Harry shakes his head. It did feel good to have attention paid to him, though. He can’t deny that. As he stares out into the distance of the room, he notices Zayn walking towards him. Squeezing his way past a crowd of betas standing around talking, Zayn waves. He’s with a bunch of people Harry doesn’t know. Introducing them all in a lazy way, Zayn points to each of them and just says their name, and Harry smiles nicely before he sees Liam approach from behind them.

Harry tucks a bit of hair behind his ear and looks to the floor. It’s the first time he’s ever truly felt like an omega in front of Liam, like Liam’ll be annoyed at his presence. Or angry.

He’s not sure what Liam feels, really. There are too many people around to try to sense anything. He gives Harry a small smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Zayn later whisper-shouts in Harry’s ear that Liam’s mad at Louis, not him, and that he thought Louis was nearby so he was braced to fight.

“Glad he didn’t come, yeah?” Zayn had shouted.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

Later on, Harry abandons Will and Zayn and Niall, too. He gets a ride home from a very questionable driver--someone from school he barely knows who just got their learner’s permit. “I don’t drink,” she’d said. “I just smoke.”

Harry’s freaked out during the entire ride home that a cop will pull them over, but it’s worth it when he finally gets home again and crawls in his bed. He just doesn’t feel like being around people.

 

* * *

 

School starts. He and Harry still talk. Sort of. It’s unavoidable that they see each other at school, but it’s never enough. Harry’s bus gets there too late for Louis to talk to him in the morning before class, and it’d take too much time to pick him up now that he’s living so far away.

Mostly they just text. He got Harry a new phone recently, making it a lot easier to communicate than with the old one Harry was using. Louis wishes that Harry would just accept these presents and stuff without feeling guilty. He always says, “You don’t have to do this.” Almost like he doesn’t want them at all.

Louis knows he doesn’t have to. He _wants_ to. He can’t do much, but he can do this.

He texts Harry just about every day now. It isn’t much interaction. And it’s a downgrade. Anything is a downgrade compared to actually living together.

They may still talk, yeah, but things aren’t right between him and Harry anymore. Things aren’t right at all.

 

* * *

 

In the excitement of the first week of school, Harry’s depression wanes a bit. Then it comes back. Then it recedes. Something extremely good ends up happening by the second week, though.

He’s at home after he finds out the news, and he can’t hide the look on his face as he and his mother do the dishes together. She’s standing next to him washing plates and he’s wiping them off and putting them away when she stops her actions completely and puts her hand on her hip.

“Okay, do you have something you want to tell me?”

Harry just raises his eyebrows innocently. “Huh?”

Anne smiles. “I know you.”

“Yeah, you’re kinda sorta my mom.”

“Well?”

“Well, I. I just wanted to tell you that maybe--” Harry pauses to open up a cabinet and put a stack of dishes away--”maybe you can quit your second job soon?”

“...What does that mean?”

Harry starts putting mugs away in the cupboard next. “I can finally help out a little bit,” he explains, side-eyeing his mom and giving her a tiny smile.

“You got a job?!” She takes both his shoulders and moves him to face her. “Where?”

Harry nods. “The bakery I told you about forever ago.”

“Sweetheart. I’m so proud.”

Harry diverts his eyes. “Well, I mean...Gemma helped me get it. She told me what to say. She says I need to be more confident and to…” Harry clears his throat. “Not accept no for an answer.”

“She would say that,” Anne smiles and gives Harry a hug. A big hug. Harry relaxes in it. “Oh, honey, I'm so thrilled for you.”

Harry softly smiles. “Thanks.”

She backs up. “Wait. How are you going to get there?”

“It’s on the bus line.” Harry swallows. “And Dad said when it’s my weekend to go see him he’ll take me and pick me up and stuff.”

His mom relaxes a bit, sighing in relief. Harry tries to hold onto this moment of excitement. The feeling of making someone else happy.

“Wait, you told your dad before you told me?”

 

* * *

 

Louis’ time becomes so fully occupied by theater that he contemplates quitting his job. He’s been there so long now that it just wouldn’t be worth it, though. The money’s too good. Still, his uncle bluntly tells him he looks like shit these days, and his mom says he’s “burning the candle at both ends.” He ignores them. He only has to go to school half-days now that he’s a senior. It’s not that bad.

He gets the lead of the play, too.

 

* * *

 

By late fall, Austin gives birth prematurely to twins. A boy and a girl. When they’re released from the hospital, Harry visits Louis’ house for the first time since he moved out.

He brings a box of diapers with him as a gift, holding it up awkwardly when Louis opens the door, a tiny baby in the crook of his arm.The image startles Harry.

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Louis mutters. He holds out a hand to take the box of diapers from Harry, but that leaves only one hand to hold the baby.

“No, no,” Harry declines urgently. “Hold her. I’ll--” Harry drops the box on his foot and stumbles as he tries to pick it back up.

“You can put it anywhere,” Louis chuckles, walking to the side so Harry can enter the foyer.

Harry places the box on a bench by the door and slowly looks around when Louis says nothing more. It’s so strange to be in the home again. He’s stupidly wearing his backpack since he walked from school, and he puts his hands under the straps out of nervousness. “So...Where is everyone?”

“Lottie’s outside, and the other girls are at a sleepover.” Louis walks ahead of Harry, and Harry follows him into the den. “Everyone else is sleeping, I think. I got this little lady all to myself while she's awake.”

“So this one is the girl?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers. “Doris.”

It's gotten easier to pretend everything's okay on the outside even though Harry can’t help but think of the same old night every time he sees Louis.

After sitting on the couch beside Louis for ten whole minutes, asking small-talk questions like _“Bet it feels different to have a brother, huh?”_ Harry turns his body to Louis and asks, “Well?”

Louis swallows. He raises his eyebrows and asks softly, “...Well, what?”

“Are you ever gonna let me hold her?” Harry complains half-heartedly.  “You've been holding her this whole time.”

“Yeah, well. I've always been a bit of a baby hog,” he replies. Turning his pair of soft eyes down to Doris and then back up to Harry, he smiles. “She's so adorable.”

“Yeah.” Harry chuckles softly before reaching out and touching one of her socked feet. “She really is.”

Harry fawns over Dorris’ cute little baby outfit and her cute little baby smell, but he’d be lying if he said she was the one he was paying the most attention to.

Louis just looks so natural with her in his arms. Happiness radiates from his skin. Though Dorris is merely a few weeks old, Louis holds her confidently, not strange and stiff like Harry noticed lots of new Alpha parents do, afraid they'll break their own child or something. Harry bets Louis wouldn't be one of those Alphas who let the omega do all of the child-rearing. He bet Louis would be a great hands-on father.

Now Harry’s picturing Louis as a dad. Great. As if he needs to torture himself any more.

Ugh. It makes Harry hurt from the longing.

Louis drops his eyes again to admire his sister. “It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago she wasn't here and…now she is.“

Harry bounces restlessly on the sofa. “Let me hold her now, c’mon.”

When Louis finally passes Doris into Harry's arms, she is so ridiculously light. “It's like holding a feather.”

Louis nods. “Yeah, it's crazy.”

“You're the cutest in the whole wide world, yes you are,” Harry coos down to the infant in his lap.

Just then, Doris yawns, and both Harry and Louis grin down at her. Harry's face softens even more. “Awww.”

“Amazing, isn't it?”

Doris holds onto Harry's thumb with all of her fingers as she begins to drift off to sleep, and Harry answers belatedly, “It really is.”

Harry and Louis are both quiet for some time as they listened to Doris make tiny noises in her sleep, little breaths and sniffles--

“Are you crying?”

Harry shakes his head. “No,” he mutters indignantly.

“Yes, you are,” Louis presses. He moves to wrap an arm around Harry's shoulder but ends up not following through. It's for the best, Harry guesses, but it still feels like a punch to the gut.

Harry shakes his head at his behavior, wiping the corners of his eyes with his thumb. “She's just so cute. You know,” he immediately diverts, “she kind of looks like you.”

Louis smiles. “You think?”

“Yeah. Everyone in your family resembles each other, actually. It's freaky, almost.”

Louis intently looks at Harry. He licks his bottom lip. “Yeah. Crazy how genetics work.”

Just then, Jay enters the room, bleary-eyed and clad in loose, unmatched clothing.

“Thanks for watching her for me, boys, but Austin’s chest is killing him. He's got to feed her before he bursts.”

“Ugh, Mom,” Louis whines. “Come on.”

Jay bends down to lift her daughter from Harry's arms, and Harry tries not to feel too disappointed at the loss. “What?”

Louis shrugs uncomfortably.

“Are you being insensitive about breastfeeding? I've raised you better than that.”

“I’m not being insensitive. I know that omegas have to...do that. I get it.”

“Well, you yourself actually had to nurse from me since your father was an Alpha, too, but--”

“ _Yes_ , I know how it works, Mom. I just don't want to hear about it.”

“Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you're my mother.”

After situating Doris in the crook of her arm, she rolls her eyes at her son. “And you drank from these things well past your second birthday, so deal with it.”

“Oh my God, Mom.”

After she leaves the room, Harry’s still chortling.

“Oh, shut up,” Louis tells Harry, but eventually he laughs along with him. “I may have breastfed for the better part of my infancy, but my interest in tits ended there, I can assure you.”

Harry clears his throat.

Well. That certainly makes no sense. If that were the case, he wouldn't have dated Hannah. Wouldn’t look at magazines that have pictures of female omegas in them.

“Babies, huh?” Louis finally breaks the silence. “Nothing like ‘em.”

Harry nods in agreeance. This is so beyond awkward now. Being alone.

“You think you'd want kids someday, Harry?” Louis asks casually.

Harry answers immediately, “I mean, yeah, of course.”

Louis’ eyebrows rise. “That was a quick answer.”

Harry shrugs. “I've always wanted kids. You already know this.”

“Soon, though?”

“Soonish,” Harry answers, averting his eyes. “I guess. I don’t want to be a really old parent and not be able to do anything with my kids.”

“But you're taking the pill, though?”

Harry suddenly feels embarrassed discussing that. “Well, yeah.” He itches his neck. “That doesn't mean I don't want kids…”

“They say the longer you take them, the risk for, like, future infertility goes up. So I just assumed that maybe you'd changed your mind.”

“No--that’s--The doctor said that's more true for people who are on actual suppressants. Mine are different. They’re okay. Otherwise he wouldn't have prescribed them to me in the first place.”

Louis has a loose bit of string hanging from his shorts that he plays with while asking, “What did he prescribe them for, anyway, then, if you just said you want kids in the near future? You just trying to prevent them right now or something?”

“No!” Harry exclaims immediately. That is such an incorrect assumption. Hilarious, actually. “I mean. It's just to--it's just supposed to help regulate my...cycle. Actually. Lessen my heats. You know, so I can focus on. School.”

“That's a myth if there ever was one.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just--Doctors just say that shit to make money off of omegas. It's not right. Lottie was on them for a whole year before she realized it. And James even warned her about it ‘cause he sees enough at work to know the truth, but Lottie kept going on about how they promised it would clear her skin or something, so.” Louis shrugs. “Mom caved and let her get them.”

Harry frowns. The doctor said the pills would decrease his annual heats to just two or three. It still hasn’t happened yet, but he has hope. He’ll absolutely die if he has to go through as many as he’s used to having again this school-year. It would be pure misery.

He’s suddenly very, very moody. It doesn’t help that Louis smells so good. It’s making him angrier. Why he has to be so fucking attractive, Harry doesn’t know. He’s got fucking _facial hair_ on his cheeks and jaw.

“Well, maybe they'll work for me eventually,” Harry mumbles. He thinks his desperation to change topics is clear. “That's what the doctor said.”

Louis gently pulls at a tuft of hair at the back of Harry’s neck. “Oh, Hazza,” he sighs. “Always so trusting of others. It's the cutest and most worrying thing about you.”

“So I'm an optimistic person,” Harry grumbles. “What's so wrong with that?”

“You just haven't seen enough of people to know how dishonest they can be. You're young.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Not that young.”

“You kind of are, though.”

A long groan of discontent rolls out of Harry's throat unnaturally. Yes, Louis’s a senior and Harry has two more years of high school left. When they were younger, somehow their age difference wasn't that much of a big deal. Now the two years between them seem so much greater, and Harry can't do anything without being constantly reminded of it. Like he’s Louis’ little brother.

Harry scoots to the side to put more space between himself and Louis. Now he feels cold. “Whatever.”

“I meant, your age is just young,” Louis explains, scooting back to Harry’s side. “You yourself aren’t. You're...an old soul inside a young body. Just too trusting sometimes.”

Harry pulls a face. “Is that supposed to be a compliment? It sounds creepy as hell.”

“I'd never insult you,” Louis simply replies. “Just trying to help you realize that...the world can be a hard place.”

“You're two fucking years older than me,” gripes Harry. “What more of the world have you even seen that I haven't?”

Louis doesn’t answer the question. He sniffs the air discreetly and changes the topic. “So what do you wanna do tonight? Wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Yeah, I guess, but I really shouldn't. I know it’s probably gonna be a bore, but I think I’ve got homework to do, so maybe--oh!” Harry exclaims, moving quickly to his backpack to suddenly dig out his phone. As Louis is basically the only one who ever texts him--the only important one, at least--Harry never keeps it out at when he’s actually with him. Shit. Shit. _Shit._

“What?” Louis asks, perking up. He laughs. “Homework you forgot about?” he guesses. “You can do it here, it’s fine.”

Harry holds up a finger and flips his phone open. Yep. Just as he’s suspected, Liam’s been blowing it up. Shit. “ _Shit_.” Shit.

Harry immediately skims through all the unread messages asking him if they’re still on for tonight and where he is, getting progressively more urgent, and Harry pushes down a bunch of buttons to quickly type out “on my way so so sorry.”

“Man. Shoot. I gotta go.” Harry puts the phone in his back pocket.

“What? Why?”

“I forgot I had plans. I've gotta meet with Liam tonight. We're working on that stupid project.”

Louis clenches his jaw. “What project?”

“The big one I texted you about.“ Harry pulls his hair. “Man, I haven't done any work on it yet. Liam’s gonna be so mad.”

“Liam can fuck himself.” When Harry doesn’t respond, he inquires, “Where you need to go, the library?”

Harry’s thumbs tap the the buttons on his phone. “Huh? Oh. No, his house.”

“His house?” Louis repeats.

“Yeah,” Harry replies distracted, still typing away. Liam's mom is making hamburgers, and Liam’s making sure Harry eats beef. He’s freaking _seen_ Harry eat beef before.

Louis stands up. “You think that's a good idea?”

Harry pockets his phone and throws his backpack over one shoulder. “Why wouldn't it be? We've got a ton of crap to do tonight, might as well be somewhere comfortable.”

“So you'll be there all night then?”

“I mean, as long as it takes to get this done, yeah. Why?”

Louis shrugs, looking disturbed.

Harry's phone vibrates against his butt. He ignores it. He wants to stay with Louis and feels almost guilty for leaving, but he doesn’t understand Louis’ behavior. Well, he does, but he guesses he’s just... tired of it. He and Louis used to be able to tell each other everything. Now everything feels like some big, precarious dance. Like Harry can never do anything right even though he’s trying his hardest.

“I know we don't see each other that much anymore and all, but I wish you wouldn't be so passive-aggressive.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Harry blushes at his own gall.

“I'm being neither passive nor aggressive,” says Louis, looking at his fingernails.

“You are being the epitome of both, actually,” Harry mutters.  

“Well, glad you're using this education to the fullest then, using words like that,” Louis says.

Harry hates when Louis is upset but pretends he’s not by acting funny. He’s just tired. He’s tired of this thing between them. Being just friends might actually be impossible.

“Look, I'm sorry I can't chill with you tonight. I'm sorry. I forgot I had already told Liam--”

Louis cut him off. “Fine,” he interrupts. “It's fine. If you have to--it’s fine. Would you just--text me when you're done? I’ll come pick you up.”

“I mean, I could, yeah, but I don't know how late we’ll be. We haven't even started yet, and it's due in six days. I’m scheduled to close the bakery three days this week, too, so we’re gonna have to get a lot done tonight.” He’s starting to run a hand through his hair like he always does when he’s nervous.

“It's Friday,” Louis says with a shrug. “I'll be up.  And you already told your mom you were coming over here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I forgot--”

“So I’ll take you there and take you home.” Louis takes his keys out of his pocket. They jingle in his hand as he walks past Harry to the front door. “Let's go.”

There’s no point in arguing. Harry follows.

Not counting Harry’s sporadic direction-giving to Louis, the drive to Liam's is silent. At best, it’s mildly uncomfortable. At worst, it’s tense as shit. Outside of Liam's house, Louis lets his car stall in the driveway for several moments before turning his body to face Harry.

“Look,” he says, staring into Harry's eyes, “would you please text me once you’re done?”

“Yes! Christ!” Harry says too loudly, annoyed that after almost fifteen minutes of no conversation, this is what Louis has chosen to say. Like Harry had fucking argued the point earlier or something. “What's with you tonight?”

“Nothing’s _with_ me.”

“You’re being... I feel like you're mad at me for having this project to do on the one night you’re off work. I've already apologized.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize _for._  I'm not mad at you. Your grades are...important. I get that.”

Harry stares at Louis’ hands gripping the steering wheel. He’s such a liar. “Then why are you acting so...so…”

“So what?”

“Ohh. Right. Liam’s house.” Harry doesn’t give Louis time to respond before he’s ranting again. “I don't think you remember what it's like _not_ being a senior, Louis. It's hard. I'm so stressed out. All the time.” Just talking about the stress is making Harry emotional. ‘Cause he’s always just so fucking emotional.

“If I was smart, I’d do it all for you, okay? I would. Also--look. I'm a senior but I’m still in _school,_  Harry. I realize it's stressful. Like college applications and figuring out what I wanna do for the rest of my life isn’t stressful? Give me a break.”

“But it’s different. You only have a few credits left you have to take. You can go half-days. You don't constantly worry about sleeping in or forgetting your work at home or going into heat in class or just-- being constantly stressed out. You get to take all afternoon classes and make your own schedule and be friends with your teachers. I have to get in front of the whole class next Friday to present this stupid report about how England decided to take over its ten-millionth colony in the matter of a few decades, and Liam and I have barely done any work,” he rambles. “And the class is just going to look at me and laugh anyway because I talk too slow, and now you're making me feel bad for even leaving in the first place because we don't see each other anymore-” Harry’s breathing quicker suddenly, voice hitched, and Louis puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down. It’s not--I don’t think you’re, like, ditching me or anything. It’s not that. We can catch up later. I just don't like that guy. You know how I feel about him.”

He wishes Louis would just drop whatever hatred he has for Liam. It’s beyond annoying. “ _That guy_ is Liam. You don’t even know enough about him to dislike him.”

“I know him enough. I know he's an unmated Alpha prick in your grade.” Louis’ eyes blaze. “What more do I need to know? They’re all the same.”

“He’s with _Zayn_ and Zayn’s _here_ tonight, ughhh,” Harry groans. “And you're an unmated Alpha yourself, and I don't see you losing your shit when omegas are in the same room as you.”

_Even when they're in fucking heat next to you, begging for you to touch them. Begging for that and more. Even when they’re right there with you while you’re in rut, ready for anything to happen._

Louis breathes in a tight breath through his nose. “I'm a senior. It’s different.”

“Oh, my _God,_ ” Harry whines. “Stop. This is his parent’s house, Louis, and _Zayn is here_. What do you think’s going to happen? He gets so aroused after researching British colonization with me that he can't contain the urge to knot me in front of his mom or something?”

Louis’ jaw hardens, and he leans into Harry’s space. “Don't. Talk. Like. That.”

Harry wilts under Louis’ stare but tries his best to maintain composure. Louis always makes his head all fuzzy when his eyes get sharp like they are now. Matter of fact, Harry’s been feeling pretty fuzzy all night. His out-of-character arguing with Louis is actually the only thing keeping his head grounded, and maybe that’s why he’s acting this way.

Harry’s voice is only a tiny bit smaller when he finally retorts, “I'm only making you see how ridiculous you're acting. He’s a nice Alpha.”

Louis sighs before bluntly saying, “Harry, your heat’s coming. It’s...this smell you have. I can’t explain it.”

“What the hell, Louis…” Harry shifts uncomfortably. Most Alphas wouldn't draw attention to that. Except maybe to hit on an omega. Or to ask if they could fuck them through it or something when it comes.

Which Louis would never do.

“I’m better at telling now, I think.. You always get really sulky like this before your heats. No offense. And then your scent--” Louis shakes his head.

Harry bristles, and maybe it angers Louis. He doesn’t know. He just knows that, suddenly, Louis does get mad at something.

“Don’t start defending him, okay? I just don't like the idea of you being here, is all. Is that so wrong? Huh?” Louis goes on, “Is it so wrong that maybe I’m a little fucking nervous because he’s an Alpha and you’re an omega and he’s a fucking dick and I’m not gonna be here--and maybe I just want you to be alright?”

Harry closes his eyes and squeezes them. “ _Chill out._ It’s not like that,” he huffs. “And I'm not being sulky. And I don’t freaking smell. You can't, like, forbid me from this. It's for school.”

“I’m not forbidding you,” Louis retaliates incredulously. “I hate that you’d think I’d do that. I'm just sayin’, please text me when you’re done. A pretty damn reasonable request given that you're this close, don’t you think? Jesus. I just--” Louis trails off, shaking his head. He’s been doing that a lot.

“...It’s like two whole weeks away,” Harry speaks out in a small voice. The way they’re arguing, the topic of contention, the way Harry's impeding heat is being brought up so casually...it’s almost like he and Louis _were_ a couple. Almost like Louis is acting jealous, absurdly jealous, not just concerned that Harry is soon to be alone with an unmated alpha while his skin bleeds out tempting fuck-me pheromones. Plus Louis had called him “Hazza” sometime during the night. Harry’s felt funny ever since. And he just said the word “please,” which was practically begging coming from an Alpha.

What the fucking hell. The confusion is insurmountable.

Louis leans in closer. “But those pills you’re taking make it more unpredictable, though.” He touches Harry's chin with his index finger, beckoning his face upwards. “They don’t do what they’re supposed to do, and you know they don’t. They don’t work. I told you they don’t work. Now you’re gonna be walkin’ in there and-- and then you’re gonna need to go home. Just keep your phone by your side. Just in case.”

Louis’ pupils are red-rimmed, but they don’t scare Harry. Instead, there’s something oddly comforting in them. Arousing. Protective. Harry wants to lean forward and engulf himself in Louis’ arms, breathe in his scent, rub his own scent all over Louis. He wants to feel small. He wants Louis so badly.

He does none of those things. Instead, he nods. Tries not to lean his head to the side too much. It’s still tilted, though, like there’s a magnet stuck in the passenger side window forcing the top of his head to move.

 _Fuck,_  this sucks. It all fucking sucks. Why wouldn’t Louis just _bite_ him? Then there wouldn't even be this problem. They’d just...be mates. No confusing games. It’d be easy.

Never. Louis would never do it, would never bite him. Harry’s tried enough times to know this as true now. His ship has sailed. Their weird friends-but-maybe-more-than-friends-but-never-ever-mates thing would forever be where they stood.

Louis moves his hand from Harry's chin to across his cheek, dragging the back of his hand down the side of Harry's neck before putting it back on the steering wheel. Harry whimpers out loud, and his legs feel like ants are crawling all over them as he gets out of the car and walks across the lawn, his backpack hitting his calves with each stride as he drags it.

Harry senses Louis watching as Liam opens the front door and takes Harry’s backpack from his grip. The two Alphas make long eye contact before Louis drives away, and Harry knows he won’t be able to concentrate at all tonight knowing that Louis isn’t happy. He’ll get a failing grade on his project, but whatever. What’s it even matter anymore.


	22. missing half of me when we're apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of coming to an end...eventually! :)

The light from the refrigerator is too bright for Louis’ eyes after walking into his completely dark and quiet house, and he squints as he looks inside it, stomach rumbling. He hasn’t eaten all evening. Been too stressed.

Louis’ mom enters the kitchen and reaches across his arm to grab a container of milk from the top shelf of the refrigerator. She robotically walks to a cabinet, pulls out a bottle, and pours the container’s contents into it. After placing the bottle in an electric warmer next to the sink, she rests her elbows on the countertop and waits.

“What are you doing?” Louis asks.

“Letting Austin get some sleep.”

“It would help if the warmer had water in it, Mom,” Louis suggests, walking over to take over what she’s trying to do. “It would also help if you turned it on.”

“Thanks.” Louis watches her yawn and squint her eyes at the digital clock on the stove. “Where’ve you been?” she slurs sleepily. “It’s past one in the morning.”

Louis shrugs, going back to the fridge. “Just out.”

His mom assesses him. She looks too tired to say anything about him coming home at such a late hour, so Louis’s in luck; he doesn’t want to explain anything. Not that he would, anyway. He’d just keep it to himself like normal, festering in his thoughts. Thinking on repeat about how the night he was supposed to spend alone with Harry for the first time in forever was ruined by Liam. How he was gone so long because he was sitting in his car down the street from Liam’s house for hours like a crazy person, waiting on edge for a call from Harry. How when it finally came through, he had to force himself to wait fifteen entire minutes--okay, maybe five--before pulling into Liam’s driveway so it wouldn’t look suspicious. How when Harry finally got into his car smelling like another house, another Alpha’s house, he had to literally clamp his jaw shut because the urge to say something or drop his teeth was so strong. How he’s fucking _tired of it all._

“Smell like you’ve been with Harry,” James walks into the room and loudly says like it’s the middle of the day. He turns on the light, steps in front of Louis to grab a can of soda from the refrigerator, and, opening it, says, “Tell him I say hi next time you see him, yeah?”

After groaning at the bright overhead lights, Louis rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you ever at work?”

James looks down at himself. He’s still wearing his scrubs. “I’ve been working all day.”

One of the babies starts crying from upstairs, and Louis’ mom gives a weak wave and walks out of the room.

“Bottle,” Louis calls after her. He hears her sigh as she walks back, grabs the bottle, and walks away again, dragging her feet.

James takes a drink of his soda again. “What happened to you?” he looks at Louis and asks.

Louis reaches out at the plate that’s been left for him on top of random jars and cans and begins picking cold food off it. “What do you mean, what happened to me?”

“You and Harry get in a fight or something?”

Louis shuts the refrigerator door too loudly. “Why does everybody think any time I’m not smiling that it has something to do with Harry?” Louis asks with his mouth full.

James makes a face like he’s seriously considering the question, and Louis frowns at him, staring at him in vague annoyance. His hair has has thinned and receded quite a bit in the past few years. Even his face is more wrinkly--mostly around his mouth that’s currently smirking. “What’d you do this time?”

“ _Nothing_. I’ve got a headache,” Louis replies angrily, sighing heavily. “I’m going to my room.”

It’s like he can still feel his head pounding in his dreams. Bad dreams.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Mr. Styles._ ”

Harry’s eyes dart to the front of the room. He lifts his head and looks to his teacher with wide eyes.

“Could you repeat what I just said, please?”

“Um.” Harry looks down at his desk as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

As everyone’s head turns around to stare at him, he gets called to the front of the room to write out his teacher’s word problems on the dry-erase board. He tries to use his curls to hide the side his face.

It’s unfortunately not unusual these days for him to be called out by his new teachers. He’d figured that maybe they’d be a little nicer to him since his grades are still decent and it’s not like he isn’t _trying_ in class, but he guesses they don’t really know him or his intentions very well yet since it’s still pretty early in the school-year. He doesn’t _mean_ to be so sleepy in class. He doesn’t _mean_ to not pay attention. It’s just getting harder and harder for him to make it through each school day with the same level of alertness he used to have. He honestly just can’t find it in him to care anymore.

A letter addressed to his mother is in the mailbox that evening informing her that the school has scheduled a parent/teacher conference the following week to discuss Harry’s recent unexcused absence from his monthly Honor Society meeting. While Harry curiously reads over his mother’s shoulder, the feeling of anxiety spiking his heart makes him gasp. He’d forgotten.

The meetings for the Honor Society, exclusive to students with high GPAs, are always held before school starts on the first Thursday of the month in the auditorium. Harry’s never once missed a meeting since he was inducted in the society during his freshman year. Until now.

The bad part is--he had gone to school that day and everything. And he was early, even. He just...forgot to go. He’d literally sat in the cafeteria doing homework while the meeting was going on just feet away.

He’ll probably get kicked out of the group now. What’s worse is that his mom will probably have to miss work in order to come to the conference since it’s scheduled right when school gets out, around three in the afternoon. Then _he’ll_ end up having to work more in order to make up the money that she’d lost.

It just sucks. The whole situation sucks. He used to be such a good student.

 

* * *

 

Louis’s hardly ever with his original group of friends anymore. They still try to chill, but it’s not as easy as it used to be since most of the parties have tapered off after Halloween. A lot of Louis’ friends have gotten jobs of their own now, too, since lots of places have begun hiring seasonal workers. Or they’re dating someone. Or, depending on who they are, they’re in rut or in heat for days and days and nobody can ever find a time that works to just normally hang out. Louis hasn’t had to worry about that lately, at least--having crazy, unpredictable ruts. Not since the bad one this summer. He guesses since he’s getting older, he doesn’t get as many as he used to. He still somehow always feels on edge, like it could happen at any moment. It keeps him stressed.

Louis drives over to Calvin’s after work on the first actual cold evening of the season. Even though his own house is close to Calvin’s, he doesn’t stop by there to change clothes or anything. There’d be no point. He keeps his uniform from work on but throws on a hoodie to cover the corny collared shirt he has to wear while on the clock.

Louis walks around the back of  Cal’s house and lets himself in through the basement door. Calvin’s the only child, so he basically has the entire lower floor to himself. Louis’s always thought the house was a bit excessively large for a family of three, considering his family’s house is around the same size with...how many people is it now? Louis mentally counts. Twelve? He can’t keep up.

Walking into the basement full of Calvin’s belongings, Louis takes off his shoes. In the middle of the room is a circular table, the table everyone sits at when they’re playing cards. Typically, there’ll be a group of Alphas around it with Cal, but tonight it’s just him and Oli. Like Louis expects, he notices they’re playing Bullshit when he sits down. Louis taught Calvin how to play it when they were younger, and it’s Calvin’s favorite thing to beat Oli at it because he’s so gullible.

Lazily watching television, Louis looks beyond the two of his friends after greeting them with a head nod each. He starts mindlessly flipping through channels, but when a noise from outside startles him, he turns his head. A rumbling noise exits Calvin’s throat until it becomes clear who’s knocking on the door--a grinning, round-faced boy Louis hasn’t seen in far too long. Louis drops both the remote and his mouth.

Stan walks in, opening his arms and grinning as he completely enters the room. He struts towards the table. “I’m heeeere, boys.”

Louis grins and stands up as Stan approaches him. After punching him on the arm, he says,

“Look who it is. Welcome _back_ , man. No one told me you were out yet.”

“Came back last week,” Stan replies, doing a half-handshake, half-hug thing with Louis.

“Thanks for telling me.”

Stan does the same handshake thing with Calvin and waves at Oli. “Been busy. Tryin’ to get enrolled back in school and all that shit.”

Even though he’s in the middle of a conversation with Stan, Louis pulls out his phone from his pocket and is disappointed for some reason to find he has no new calls or texts. He sits back down.

“Sweet. I’ll give you my schedule if you wanna try to get the same classes as me.”

“Thanks.”

“Now that you’re here, let’s play some poker,” Cal suggests. There’s a small bag of poker chips on the table he dumps out before looking at Stan. “You cool with that?”

As Stan nods, Louis picks up on the fact that Calvin has known about Stan coming over. Obviously, since Calvin must’ve invited him. He clearly just didn’t think to tell Louis. Whatever.

“‘Course. I’m here to take all your money,” Stan sits down and says. “I need some spendin’ cash.”

“You wanna smoke first?” Calvin asks.

“Nah,” Stan answers. “Can’t.”

Louis stares at Stan. Their trouble-making ways had caught up with him not too long ago, and he’d ended up getting caught vandalizing the local skate park along with a string of other things. Instead of being ordered to community service like most minors would, he had to go to juvenile detention. For over an entire year. Now it’s like he’s returned a different person, and Louis can’t stop staring. No longer pudgy, Stan’s gotten muscular. His hair’s completely buzzed off. He looks confident. Louis feels a sudden insecurity run through him at the thought that he’s smaller than his Beta friend.

Calvin pushes the deck of cards to Stan, who starts dealing to the group. Before he can get to Louis, everyone says at the same time, “He doesn’t gamble,” while Louis pushes the cards back to Stan.

“Since when?”

“Got better things to do with my money than give it to you fools,” Louis smiles and says simply.

Stan takes everyone’s cards back, re-shuffling them. “You have enough to give it to me, though. Help a brother out.”

“Got my mind on my money and my money on my mind,” Oli sings. Everyone ignores him.

Louis just laughs. “So what’s been up, man? A whole year. No calls, no nothing.”

“They only let me have one phone call a week, no lie,” Stan tells him as he starts re-dealing the cards to just Calvin, Oli, and himself.

Louis jokingly shakes his head in mock-shame. “And you didn’t think to call any of us at all.”

“No way. They listened in on all of ‘em.”

“So, what was it like in there?” Calvin asks as he picks up his cards and curses under his breath. “You were just stuck with a bunch of other Betas every day?”

“Yeah. I mean, the center was Beta Only, but the grounds had an Alpha building and an omega building, too. We had rec-time each week that was co-ed out on the basketball courts or whatever.”

“Rec-time?” Oli asks.

“Recreation,” Stan supplants.

“You sound like you’re a felon,” Oli jokes. He looks at his cards with a blank face and slides chips towards the middle of the table.

“Look like one, too,” Louis comments. Somehow Stan has returned with a tattoo on his hand.

“My record’s clean now,” Stan says, chuckling. “They wiped it. I’m not fucking up again, though. If juvie was that bad, actual jail’d be shit.”

“What was it like?” Oli asks. “Was it like school, except you just--you slept there, too?”

“Actually, no. Classes were for a few hours a day, not all day. The rest of the time was for, like, self-improvement stuff. They had these counselors come each month to talk to us and do activities and whatever. Most of it was for the Alphas, but we got to do it, too.”

“Awww,” Calvin mocks.

Stan just shrugs. He pushes chips into the middle of the table, too.

Louis wonders what it’d be like to be a Beta, to not have to constantly compare himself  to others. To not have to deal with other people having such high expectations for him. It’d be pretty boring, but at least there wouldn’t be so much pressure.

As Stan belatedly shrugs off his coat, Calvin leans over to tug on his shirt. He sticks his nose by the fabric and then playfully pushes Stan’s arm. “You been messin’ around with an omega, dude?” he asks.

Stan keeps his eyes down as he smiles. “Maybe.”

“What’s an omega wanna be with you for?”

Stan doesn’t answer. He stares at his cards and then to Calvin’s expectantly. Calvin doesn’t pay attention. “How are you already seein’ someone if you just got out?” he asks.

“Met her there. She got out a few weeks before me.”

Calvin laughs. “What’d she do?”

“Got caught shoplifting.”

“Oh. Match made in heaven,” Louis comments lightly, looking at his phone.

Stan smiles. “Tell me about what’s been goin’ on with everyone,” he changes the topic. “I’m out of the loop now. You still workin’ over at that store off Main?” he looks to Louis and asks as he begins eating out of a bowl of chips sitting at the middle of the table.

“‘Course,” Calvin answers on Louis’ behalf. He lays some cards down and draws some more. “Louis here spends so much time taking boxes off trucks and flittering around with all the theater Alphas who dress like omegas that we barely see him.”

“I got lead in a play this year and Calvin likes to rub it in because he’s untalented and lazy in every way,” Louis says to Stan while staring at Calvin. Calvin kicks his shins under the table. “To update you on _him_ , he spends all his time adding to his collection of sticky socks behind his bed, so.”

“Touche,” Calvin says when everybody laughs. Louis laughs along while still looking at his phone.

Oli starts to say something but is interrupted by Calvin. “The sock collection has gone down since Will’s helping me out in that department,” he tells everyone.

“Which one’s Will?” asks Stan.

“My omega. You’ve met him.”

“Your omega? _God_ , It’s neverending with you two,” Oli looks at Calvin incredulously and comments. “I can’t keep up. You’re together then you’re not. Then you’re together. Then you’re not.”

“We’ll be fine eventually,” Cal simply says. “We’re meant to be mates. He’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t put up with you if I were him,” Oli interjects, “but whatever.”

Calvin shakes his head. “It’s not me who’s causing the problems. It’s him. He says one thing then acts another.”

“Oh? Has nothing to do with the fact that you cheated?”

“He’s been with other Alphas, too,” Calvin argues as he picks up a card. After a minute in which no one responds, he goes on, “I swear that omegas, like, provoke Alphas. It’s the only explanation for why he says he doesn’t want to be with me but then...acts another way.”

Oli smiles. “‘Course we do. Provoking is our favorite thing.”

“But why?”

“What do you think an omega would provoke an Alpha for? Hmmm.” Oli has his thumb and forefinger to his chin, looking like he’s thinking very hard. Everyone looks at him blankly.

“Because they want something,” Oli answers for the group, rolling his eyes.

“Then they should ask. Don’t know what more he could want, though. I’ve said I was sorry. I gave him roses, did all that shit.”

Oli rolls his eyes again. “He probably wants something really specific that you’re not addressing, not flowers. Omegas just...don’t... We’re not brought up to say stuff like that to Alphas.”

“What, tell us what you want?” Calvin asks. When Oli nods, Cal argues, “Some of you do.”

“Well, either way, if Alphas weren’t complete idiots,our behavior would make sense.”

“Sucks to be you guys.” Stan shrugs and chimes in. “I’m a great boyfriend. I’ve been with my omega for five months now.. And she’s great.”

“What’s she see in you?” Calvin asks again.

“Well, I’m happy for you, Stan,” Oli says over his cousin. “I think it’s sweet. It gives me hope that the Alpha I’m with talks about me like this when she’s with her friends.”

Calvin puts his cards down. “Which Alpha?”

“Just somebody,” Oli answers evasively.

“Who?” Calvin asks again.

Oli sighs. “Look, you don’t need to protect me if that’s what you’re getting growly about.”

“You’re family. How’ve you been hiding that--”

Stan suddenly stands up and puts on his coat. “I gotta go.”

Calvin turns his head. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to y’all later, though. I’ll be around.”

“We haven’t seen you in over a year,” Calvin says incredulously. He gestures to the table with both hands. “We’re in the middle of a game.”

“A game you were about to lose. She’s hungry,” Stan explains, holding up his phone where his omega had apparently just texted him this information. “Gotta go pick her up some food.”

Calvin leans back in his chair with a shit-eating grin. “She’s got you. She’s got you, dude. There’s no getting out now.”

At the back door, Stan smirks around the cigarette he’s just put in between his lips. “And there’s no better thing. See ya, boys.”

Louis stretches and yawns. “I need to go, too.”

“Well, shit,” Calvin comments, throwing down his cards. “It’s Saturday night.”

“I’ve got work.”

“I thought you already went in today,” Oli says.

“Doin’ a split-shift.” Louis explains. Without any real enthusiasm, he stands up, waves at Calvin and Oli, and walks back outside alongside Stan. After putting his Vans back on, he puts a cigarette in his mouth just like Stan, and both of them shield the tips with their left hands before lighting them.

As the two of them walk side-by-side towards their cars, Louis stares at his feet. He feels robotic.

 

* * *

 

 

The noises of bowling balls colliding with pins reverberates through the bowling alley and inside Harry’s ears.Again and again and again and again.

“Am I diseased or something?” he asks to himself under his breath.

“Not that I can tell,” Will answers, sliding next to Harry on the bench he’s been sitting at alone behind the bowling ball return machine. 

“Why am I even here?” Harry asks. “No one’s even talking to me.”

“You’ve...got a cat sitting on your lap.”

“She’s a kitten,” Harry corrects, scratching his new kitten’s head between the ears. “And no one told me we were coming to a bowling alley. I thought we were goin’ to your house, that’s why I brought her. I couldn’t just leave her at home.”

“Calvin invited me last minute,” Will explains apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry mumbles.

“Well, why don’t you bowl with us next game? It’ll be fun.”

Harry tries to cover his as-yet-unnamed cat’s ears. “She’s scared of the noise. Anyway, I didn’t even bring any money.”

“So just chill with people,” Will suggests. “That’s what Zayn’s doing.”

Harry stares at the far wall of the building and sees Zayn leaning against it with Liam. “Zayn wouldn’t be caught dead wearing bowling shoes, that’s why.”

Standing up to better look at Zayn, Will grins. “You could always go over there if you wanted. See what they’re doing.”

“They’re playing pool. I don’t know how to play pool.”

Will sticks out his tongue. “You’re such a party pooper.”

“No, really. I’m not trying to be. I’m okay just watching you guys. It’s fine.” Harry pulls out his phone from his pocket and checks it. No new calls. No new messages. He keeps petting his cat.

Just finishing his set, in the next moment Calvin approaches Will from behind and wraps his arms around his waist. Will smiles and turns his neck to the side as Calvin starts kissing it. Harry keeps his mouth in a thin line and exhales air from his nose.

“You want something to eat in a little bit?” Cal asks Will.

Will nods happily. “Nachos.”

“Alright, after this game,” Calvin tells him.

“But I’m hungry now,” Will replies. He turns around and looks at Calvin with flirtatious eyes. Calvin kisses him and then wordlessly walks to the set of stairs to make his way to the concession stand.

After happily watching Calvin for a long time, Will sits down next to Harry again. “Look at him. He’s getting me a drink, too. He’s gotten so much better.”

“Good,” Harry replies. _Don’t be jealous, don’t be jealous._

Having cut in line, Calvin comes back quickly. He places the food he’s bought for Will next to him on the bench, leans down to peck him again, and then puts money in his hand.

“If you want something else,” he says, “here’s the change.” He stands all the way up again and looks at the scoreboard. “Alright, your turn now.”

“Go for me? I’m gonna eat.”

“Okay,” Calvin agrees, winking. “Watch me.”

“‘Kay.” Will smiles and nods while watching Calvin grab his bowling ball again. “Hey,” Will tells Harry the next second, holding out his palm to show off the bills that Calvin just gave him. “Did you wanna play now? It’s enough for another game.”

“I’m good, really.” Harry smiles. “Thanks, though.”

“Get something to eat then.” Will shoves the money into Harry’s pocket. “Don’t say no. Just take it.”

“Are you sure?”

Will nods before taking Harry’s kitten from off his lap, rubbing his face against it and cooing. Harry just watches. He rarely sees Will act this way, and it’s strange to have him be so openly happy. _Don’t be jealous. Don’t be jealous._ What an awful thing to think--being upset at someone else’s happiness. _Don’t be jealous._

Harry walks towards the concession stand, and there are two long lines he has to wait in. When he gets to the front and it’s finally his turn to order, he smells somebody familiar nearby and stalls. There’s Ashton to his side. Harry smiles and opens his mouth to greet him, but Ashton’s already in the middle of a conversation with the cashier. Harry just stands waiting there, looking around.

He never realized so many people came to the bowling alley on Friday nights. He guesses there’s not much else to do since it’s starting to get cold outside. His stomach grumbles.

“Where are you from?” Harry hears the omega from behind the counter ask Ashton. Ashton, already resting his forearms on the counter, grins and leans even more forward.

“Australia.”

“Australia,” she repeats with an accent, smiling. “That’s cute.” Keeping her main attention on on Ashton, she finally takes Harry’s order, and Harry places money in her hand. Once the movement makes Ashton realize it’s Harry beside him, Harry smiles and gives a little wave. The omega behind the counter looks between the two of them, and Harry gathers that he’s just interrupted and probably ruined a good chance that Ashton had of trying to get that omega’s number. Harry grabs his fries and scurries away.

At the condiment station a few moments later, Ashton approaches Harry with a plate full of hot dogs.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles to him.

“No worries.”

There’s a very long silence after that. Ashton doesn’t even look at Harry as he says, “I’m still your friend and everything, but I’m not gonna talk to you here, okay?”

Harry’s face morphs into one of extreme hurt. “But why not?”

Ashton bites into his hot dog once he’s covered it in ketchup. “Louis.”

“He’s here?” Harry asks, whipping his head around to the entrance.

With a full mouth, Ashton shakes his head and starts walking away. “‘Is friends are. It’s just not a good idea to talk to you in public. Gonna go.”

“You’re scared of him?” Harry asks.

Ashton squares his shoulders and finally turns to face Harry. “I’m not scared of him. He’s just aggressive. I’m not tryin’ to deal with it if somethin’ gets back to him.”

“Louis?” Harry clarifies.

“Yes. Golden boy Louis.”

Harry finds himself automatically defending Louis. “You just have to get to know him. He’s actually really nice.”

Ashton’s face, normally jovial, turns confrontational. “Yeah, heaps. Every time he sees me he starts shit.”

“But what do you mean? When?”

“No offense, but I’ll just talk to you in school, okay?”

Harry doesn’t accept the dismissal. “I wanna know what’s goin’ on. I thought you said--”

“He’s under the assumption--the wrong assumption--that I was--or that I am--tryin’ to mate you or somethin’,” Ashton answers while walking to a table. He sits down. “That’s why he hates me.”

“He thinks that about any Alpha I hang out with,” Harry grumbles. He expectantly stands next to the table until Ashton rolls his eyes and gestures to the chair on the other side. Harry happily sits down.

“Here go my chances with that cashier,” Ashton mumbles.

Harry frowns, seeing from his peripheral vision that the omega from before is eyeing their table. “Tell her I’m your cousin or something. Then she won’t feel so bad. Not like I’m competition for her, anyway.”

“My cousin? My American cousin?”

“Yeah. Your grandmother had some children in Australia and then....” Harry makes up the rest. “Then she moved to America and had some more kids. So that’s why your family moved here in the first place. To meet the uncles and cousins you never knew..”

“Now that you mention it, I see the family resemblance between you and me.”

Harry laughs at Ashton’s joke, and both of them smile, dimples showing. It doesn’t last long before Ashton is frowning again.

“Look, first time I ever saw the bloke he basically attacked me with a chair.” Ashton tells Harry, starting to count off on his fingers. “He caused my omega to break up with me. Almost broke my nose that one time.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I know I can hang out with whoever I want to and don’t really _care_ what he thinks, but I’d rather just keep my regular drama-free life, if that’s okay with you. I’m not the type of Alpha to get all aggro like that.”

“What do you mean, the first time?” Harry asks in confusion. His fries stay untouched.

Ashton bites into his last hot dog. “Hm?”

“You said the first time you ever saw him he attacked you? There was more than one time? When was that?”

“I told you, every time I see him, he starts shit. He thought I was tryin’ to mate you last year, I already told you.”

Harry blinks. “I thought it was just that time at the party, and you told me you guys worked it out.”

“Worked it out as in, yeah, I’m not gonna mess with him and he’s not gonna mess with me,” Ashton answers. “I told him I’m not gonna be so nice if he does anything again, though, so. To keep that from happening, I’m tryin’ to stay away.”

“So this is about weird Alpha respect then? You don’t wanna talk to me because you think I’m his territory or something?”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “I’m an Alpha, so I get it. Really, I do. But still. You’re a friend. I wouldn’t want to get in a fight with your Alpha. You’d hate me. It’s more about that than anything else.”

“He’s...not my Alpha.”

“Whatever you wanna call it, then,” Ashton replies.

“So does this mean you’re not even gonna talk to me anymore in public?”

Ashton leans back. “I’m talking’ to you right now. And guess who’s over there lookin’ at us.”

Harry turns his head. Will and Calvin are staring. He sighs.

“I’ll see you in school, then,” Harry says, getting up at the same time Ashton does to throw away his plate.

“See ya.”

Harry walks down a set of small stairs and back to where Will is waiting for him excitedly.

“What was all that about?” he asks in a whisper, eyes big.

Harry shakes his head easily and sets down his container of fries. “Nothing like that.”

Calvin stares wordlessly at Harry. Harry stares back, barely blinking. It’s weird for a little bit until Harry looks around at the bench he had left his jacket on. Besides that and his fries, it’s empty.

“Where did my kitten go?”

Will looks around. “Oh, I just...I had him right here.”

“Her,” Harry corrects, looking under the bench anxiously. “How long ago did you see her?”

“Just a second ago, Harry, really,” Will replies. “She couldn’t have gone far…”

“Oh, no,” Harry mumbles. “You lost my cat?”

“Someone’s gotta find it,” Will hopes aloud, and immediately, Harry starts wandering.

He’s afraid that she’s walked into a gutter or is somewhere behind the bowling pins or that someone’s stolen her, but he starts off by walking around the entrance, then the left side of the building, always looking towards the ground. The kitten is small and midnight-black, making this next-to-impossible.

Harry reaches the pool tables off tothe very right side of the building and talks to Zayn and Liam for a bit. No one’s seen his cat. He goes into the omega bathrooms and Liam even checks the Alpha stalls. Nothing.

Beyond the bathrooms is a little room filled with old arcade games--about twelve of them, lined up side-by-side against two walls. They’re huge, and no one knows how to use them, so the room is completely empty. Harry gets on his hands and knees on the floor and starts looking around underneath them. If he were a cat, he’d want to get away from all the noise and hide in a dark, quiet place. Actually, he’s not a cat, and that’s what he feels like doing himself. He sniffs around and has a feeling this is the right place to be looking.

His butt is high in the air as he crawls around, peeking his head under each and every machine. He makes it to the very last one--no luck--when he hears someone speak, and he gasps, startled.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Harry stands up so quickly he bumps his head on the metal bottom of a pinball machine. As he brushes off his jeans, his face heats up, realizing what position he was just in in front of an Alpha. Preston. Oh jeez.

Dumbly, Harry stands there quietly, then looks around. “Who, me?” he finally asks. There’s no one else in the room Preston could be talking to.

Preston nods. As he walks forward, Harry can’t help looking at his neck and shoulders. They’re large. Unnecessarily large, really. He’s on the football team, so maybe that’s why. It’s sort of gross.

Preston’s smiling roguishly at Harry, and Harry swallows. He feels a hand come to rest on his hip, and he looks down at it. He’s considering what to do about it when Preston’s other hand comes to rest on the other hip. After a moment, his grip becomes more confident.

“What are you doing in here all alone?” Preston asks softly. Intimately.

“I’m--Looking for my cat, actually,” Harry answers, trying to back away.

Preston chuckles huskily. Harry wants to laugh back, purely at the fact that Preston has just made a chuckle sound husky, but Preston’s leaning forward little by little.

“What do I gotta do to get you to talk to me?” Preston asks quietly.

Harry blushes, mostly out of discomfort. He can’t really deny the fact that it sort of feels good to have an Alpha pay so much attention to him, though. Especially since he doesn’t get much attention from Louis anymore. He’s always working.

A loud crash from outside saves Harry from having to answer Preston. He jolts and abruptly jerks away from Preston as he sees a fast-running cat dart out from under one of the arcade games and out of the room.

“My cat!”

Harry doesn’t look at Preston as he briskly runs after it. He doesn’t have to go far; just a few feet outside of the room is Niall, holding onto a very small and very freaked-out kitten. When Harry takes her back into his arms, he sees that Niall’s forearms are bleeding a little bit.

“Shhhh, shhh, shhhh,” he repeats, again and again and again until eventually his cat relaxes and retracts her claws. He stands there for a while, wishing he’d just stayed at home. Especially with all these people now staring at him.

Instead of thanking Niall, what comes out of Harry’s mouth is, “Literally everyone I know is at the bowling alley tonight, huh?”

Well, everyone but one person, he guesses.

 

* * *

 

Harry sucks in medicine from his inhaler and goes back to trying to do his homework. He and Will are on his bed, and there’s a small, electric heater resting on the floor that he thinks is making it hard for him to breathe. His throat is scratchy.

“Side effect from your heat regulators, probably,” Will tells him.

Harry shakes his head. “Don’t take them anymore.”

“Why not?”

“They don’t do much regulating,” Harry just shrugs and answers. He’s been lucky to not have any unexpected heats start during school since he stopped taking his medicine, despite him always being paranoid that it will happen at any time.

“So what’d you get for number two?” Will cranes his neck to look at Harry’s paper, then his eyes move to Harry’s phone. “Oh. Hey. Louis just texted you.”

“What?” Harry says too quickly as he grabs it. It’s still new to him, and he can’t get used to how big the screen is. On it, he anxiously reads what Louis messaged him: _don’t know what ur doing tommorow night but im off. wanna ride home w me from school?_

“What should I say?” Harry asks Will, looking up. “He wants to hang out tomorrow.”

“Let me see how he wrote it so I can tell you how you should reply,” Will comments, taking the phone out of Harry’s hands. Immediately, he begins tapping a response.

“Wait, wait, wait--what are you saying?”

“Nothing.”

Harry grabs his phone back from Will and sees where he’s already replied: _can’t, busy. have plans already._

“Will, _you didn’t!_ ” Harry exclaims.

“I did.”

“ _Will."_ Harry sighs. “That came across really rude.”

Will shrugs. “You need to move on.” He adds a little more sympathetically, “It’s only hurting you.”

Harry shrugs morosely. “I can’t help I miss him. I’ll be at my dad’s apartment all weekend for his birthday, anyway. Oh, well.”

“I thought you said you wanted to forget Louis even exists. Those were your words before. Right here in this room.”

Harry frowns. He types out a frowny-face and texts it to Louis.

“Look, I don’t bother you about Calvin,” Harry accuses. “It’s just not my business. You’ve said forever that you’re done with him, and look at you now. How is this any different?”

Will slams his book shut and gets off the bed. “You know what, Harry? Fine. I’m done helping you. You can just figure it out yourself.”

“W-Where are you going?”

Will puts his books in his backpack and zips it up. Without saying goodbye, he walks out of Harry’s room.

“But I haven’t even done anything to you,” Harry says quietly, staring at the door.

He flops back on his bed and hears his phone chime, but when he glances at it, it’s just Preston texting him. Somehow, he’s gotten Harry’s number. Harry scowls and pushes the phone off the bed.

 

* * *

 

Louis’s lounging on his bed on top of a pile of messy blankets, blinking with dry eyes at the screen in front of him. It’s a riveting Friday night. His laptop is on his thighs, and there’s a Microsoft Word document open with half-a-page of writing on it. Louis’s messing with the margins and font size to make it look like there’s more there than there really is when his uncle James knocks on the open door and steps inside.

“It stinks in here,” he greets Louis.

“Then walk back out,” Louis responds without looking at him.

“Pleasant mood, as always,” James notes, walking towards the bed. Louis notices that his blue scrubs are wrinkly. “Look at you being all scholarly on a Friday night.”

“You need something?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Jeez, can’t I just say hello?”

Louis smirks. “Hello.” He follows that with “What’s up?” once James doesn’t say anything else.

“I just got off work and can’t wind down,” James replies, tilting his head back and taking a long swig from the bottle of Pepsi he’s brought with him.

“Drinkin’ caffeine prob’ly won’t help that,” Louis comments.

“This is true.” James sits on the end of the bed. “So I actually wanted to talk to you. I’m allowed to do that still, yeah?”

“Talk about what?”

“Stuff and things.” James rubs the rough stubble that’s formed on his face. “You’re not home much anymore. Surprised you’re here now, actually.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“So I‘ve noticed.” Louis looks away from his computer just as James is continuing, “Very busy. Your mother’s getting worried.”

Louis groans, preparing for a lecture from James. “She’s giving you orders to come talk to me?”

James’ eyes blaze slightly, and that’s enough of an answer for Louis. He sighs and closes his mouth, officially put in his place by his older relative. He knows to stop whining.

“The principal’s called saying you’ve been tardy six days this month alone.”

“I go half-days.”

“You still have to be there on time, though, Louis. You don’t get to just make your own schedule.”

“I’ve only been late by a few minutes each time. Traffic’s bad. You know the traffic sucks at rush hour.”

“It’s always been that way. So leave earlier.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “It’s not like I’m skipping. I’m still going to graduate if that’s what you’re all worried about.”

“We’re worried about more than just that. Your main job as a student is to _go to school._ I never thought doing extra work on the side would be a bad thing, but it’s getting to be like that, Louis. I look at you and can tell. You’re doing too much, working too late. You’re never home. You look like crap these days.”

Louis sighs. “Thanks.”

James nudges Louis’ calf with his elbow. “Being serious.”

Louis moves the laptop off his lap. “I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m fine. It’s just a lot goin’ on right now. The play’s coming up in a month. I’m lead.”

“And we’re all extremely happy for that.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you’re doing too much.”

“I’m doing too much?” Louis repeats.

“You’re doing too much. It’s not good for your health. You’re working enough to be considered full-time while also--”

“While also being a _part-_ time student,” Louis interrupts. “It evens out.”

“It doesn’t. Not when you have extra-curricular things goin’ on. And I know you help out with the kids when you can, and we appreciate that, of course, but all of this just isn’t healthy. You’ve got us all concerned. When do you sleep?”

“I sleep enough. I’m fine. Since when is everyone so worried about my health, anyway? And if me being away from home bothers Mom so much, she could always--”

“Your mother has her hands full with newborn twins and a full-time job of her own with crazy hours. She’d tell you this herself, but like I said, it’s hard to catch you lately.”

“I’m _fine._  Everything is great,” Louis tells him. “Everything is fucking great,” he adds on, muttering so low his uncle can’t hear.

“How often do you get to see Harry? Are you able to still see him much these days or what?”

Louis’ jaw hardens. “Not really. Why?”

“That’s probably not helping things, either. Explains why you’re always moody, at least,” James says out of the side of his mouth.

Louis scrunches his eyebrows together.

“Why doesn’t he come by more?” James asks.

Good question. Louis shrugs. “He works now, too.”

“Ah. But certainly you guys can get days off together. You’re students. ...Everything alright?”

“You’re always so nosy.”

“Concerned,” James corrects. “Everything alright?” he repeats.

Louis nods before eventually sighing. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes, yes,” James replies seriously. “High school drama. Very tough stuff.” Louis squints his eyes in annoyance. James just laughs. “C’mon. One day I won’t be here to pick on you and you’ll wish I still could.”

“Doubt it.”

“I’m being serious. When I was your age I wish I had a hip uncle to help me out.”

“I never asked for any help.”

“You should. It’s available.” When Louis doesn’t say anything, James continues, “You’ve gotta allow yourself to admit when you need it. You’re depressed.”

Louis stares beyond his uncle. He has to admit that he’s right. He is depressed. And it sucks. “I don’t know what help you could give me. It’s...complicated, like I said.”

“What does complicated mean?” James asks casually.

Louis wouldn’t know where to begin. He knows everyone in the home is pretty aware of his feelings towards Harry despite him never outright discussing them. He feels like he’ll implode if he doesn’t get at least _something_ out, though. To anybody. Even his uncle.

“We’re just...since he moved out, we don’t see each other much. Like I said. And when we _are_ together…” Louis trails off, shrugging. “I don’t know. Before he moved out, a lot of stuff happened, and it’s. It’s different now.”

James has a blank, expectant look on his face. Louis rolls his eyes. “When we are together, it’s like…it’s tense. So things are just...complicated right now,” Louis repeats.

 _Complicated_. It’s a good word.

James starts to take a sip of his drink then looks to Louis in confusion. “So, what’re you saying? Are you guys not getting along?”

“Why do you always ask that?” Louis grumbles.

“You just said things are tense. Why would things be tense?”

Louis frowns and shrugs. He feels the interrogation begin to affect him, and he shortly answers his uncle. “I...A bunch of different things, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?”

“Look,” Louis says, suddenly defensive, “what do you care so much for?”

“I’m honestly concerned about you. With what’s going on with you.”

“Nothing going on with me. Everything is great,” Louis lies again and gives a tight smile. “Great. Just busy, that’s all--”

“Your life consists of school, homework, theater practice, and an absurd amount of manual labor. Then you just said you and Harry don’t see each other and when you do, it’s tense. That means he’s probably not happy--”

“Do you think I don’t know that?!” Louis interrupts in agitation. “I’ve known him my whole life. I can tell when he’s not happy.”

James mumbles something under his breath that Louis can’t make out before asking, “If you _know,_ then why don’t you do something about it?”

“If it was something I could help with, he’d ask me.” Louis sighs. “Nothing for me to do, anyway. I can’t do his homework for him. I mean, I could, but he’s smarter than me, so. There’s not much I can do.”

“Smarter than I.”

“Smarter than I?” Louis mocks. “Who says that?”

“Smart people,” James answers. “So you’re telling me Harry’s moody about school? Constantly?”

“What d’you mean, constantly?”

“Just going by your own mood every time I get to see you. If you’re moody all the time, just gonna assume that he is, too. That’s how it works.”

“I told you, I don’t know all the reasons he’s not happy. He gets stressed about things really easily. I know he’s sad because he doesn’t know his new neighbors. I know he hates going to his dad’s house every other weekend. But I can’t change any of it. If he could maybe just move back in...or if we could at least see each other more...I don’t know. I can’t fix it, James. The way life is right now...I can’t fix it.”

“You can’t fix the fact that his parents broke their bond or that he’s not living here anymore, but you can help his mood, at least. Seriously, though. It’s not good for you, either. Clearly.”

Louis looks at James in irritation. He’s always so irritated these lately.

“You’re away from Harry and it’s very clearly getting to you. Nothing wrong with admitting that. You’re bottling up your feelings. Know what happens when you do that?” James looks at his soda bottle and starts shaking it.

“Don’t--”

Before James opens the cap to inevitably spew Pepsi all over Louis’ room, he stops and gently smiles. “It’s too much to keep inside. Get Harry. Talk to him.”

“About what?”

“About how you’re both busy lately and how it’s been bothering you. Just. Open up with your feelings about things.”

“You’re just saying all this ‘cause you’re bonded to a therapist.”

James diverts his eyes. “No, I’m not. Talk to him about it. Then fix it. Cutting back your hours at work should be your first step. Then you can set up certain times each week to hang out with Harry. It’ll help. Being separated too long--”

“No Alpha really _does_ that, though.”

“Does what?”

“Talks about...feelings and crap. Especially to an omega. It’s weird.”

“Good Alphas do. _Especially_ to their omega. I guess you’ll learn in time.”

“I dunno.” Louis shrugs, shaking his head. Ever since last year, it’s been extremely hard for him to come up with the words to say when Harry’s around. Like he’ll be cutting open himself, leaving him defenseless to be ridiculed. “I guess it is what it is.”

In a hint of annoyance at Louis, James’ eyes flash red and he curses, shaking his head. “You always say that shit, Louis. ‘ _It is what it is, it is what it is_.’ It’s _what you make it._ One of these days you’ve _seriously_ got to step up and be a good Alpha, you know that? One day you'll wake up and realize how much time you've wasted being stupid.”

“Thanks for walking in here and insulting me. How exactly am I being stupid?”

“You’re not doing anything! You’re not helping Harry, you’re not helping yourself. You’re not even trying.”

“You don’t know what I’m doing and what I’m not doing! I work my ass off--”

“Money doesn’t buy love, you know that?” James bites. “What’s a bunch of money gonna do if you never see the person you’re earning it for?”

Louis sits up, frustrated. “What else can I do to see him then, huh? I told you he works, too. It’s not like I don’t freakin’ try!”

James looks at Louis like he’s crazy. “You go to school together! Lift his mood! You, of all people, can do it better than anyone. You can’t change his life, but you can change his mood. Just find the time to spend together, just once a week even, and _talk_ to him--”

“I _can’t_ , Jamie, alright? You don’t get it.” The worst anxiety suddenly slams into Louis’ chest, irrational thoughts. Feeling the beginnings of a migraine, Louis shakes his head and closes his eyes. “I don’t know--I try to do what I can, I guess. He’s just...a sensitive omega sometimes. He doesn’t--I don’t know.”

“Look, kid, after watching you together this summer, he’s not the problem. You are. He’s not any more sensitive than he’s ever been. Maybe you’re just a bigger idiot. I’m telling you, as his Alpha, you’ve got the power to make him happy. Get your head out of your ass and do it. You’ve got to talk about your feelings. And his feelings. It’s just something you have to do. If he’s doing something--anything--you get in there and start helping him. Actually--do it for him. Be with him. Follow him if you have to. Chase him even. Take accountability. Say sorry for stuff even if you didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. _Make time for him_. That kinda stuff. It’ll help you out, too.”

“I’m not his Alpha,” Louis grumbles.

James looks incredulous. “No damn _wonder_ he’s not happy with you.”

“What?”

“The way you’re talking, it’s like you don’t even care. I don’t know why Jacob told me--”

“I do care! You don’t even know what you’re talking about. You’ve told me since I was little to _respect_ omegas and stuff. That would mean listening to them if they say they can’t hang out with you, not chasing them down like a stalker.”

James’ eyebrows are into his hairline. “You're joking. Where on earth are your instincts to make him feel better, though?”

Louis scowls. “This conversation makes no sense because you don’t know what’s even going on. You don’t know a thing about me and Harry. You don’t, okay? You think you do, and you don’t. I shouldn’t’ve even said anything.”

“Jesus, Louis. It’s not the end of the world. Look--whatever the hell teenage crap you two have got going on-- _all the time_ \--you’re still mates. Just find him, _apologize_ to him, and get it over with. You have to bite the bullet sometimes to make your omega happy, okay? Not to mention, you’ve probably done something wrong in the first place and that’s why he’s been avoiding you, so. Go apologize. C’mon. And _hint:_  when omegas say they want to be alone, they really just want you to change how you’re acting. That’s all I’m saying. I bet he misses seeing you.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Are you high?” James asks loudly. “Want me to spell it out? Apologizing means saying you’re sorry to someone for doing something, or, in your case, not doing enough. It generally makes the other person feel better.”

“You are so fucking sar--” Louis stops talking when his uncle gives him a look. Generally, he can curse in front of James, just not _at_ James. “Freaking sarcastic,” he corrects. “I’m trying to tell you. I’m not his Alpha.”

James looks around. “Does he have another one somewhere?”

“I’ve never marked him, James! I can’t be his Alpha.” Louis gestures in the general direction of outside with his hand. “Clearly, I’m not the Alpha he wants or he’d _be_ here, wouldn’t he?”

“You’re seriously high right now,” James says. “I don’t know if I should be happy that my nephew thinks I’m cool enough to be high in front of or mad that my nephew thinks it’s okay being high in front of a _doctor_ \--”

Louis growls. “I’m not freaking high! Jesus!”

James’ voice sounds robotic as he sardonically spells it out: “He has marked you. You are mated.”

“He hasn’t marked me,” Louis continues to argue. “Omegas don’t mark Alphas.”

“Uh, yes, they do.”

At the same time that his heart starts visibly pounding in his chest, sweat covers his hands and his neck starts itching. “No, they don’t.”

“They do all the time, kid.”

Louis is going crazy. His hand rises of its own accord to touch his neck. “No, they don’t!”

“Yes, they do,” James repeats firmer. Sitting up and looking frustrated, he isn’t so playful now. “Stop arguing with me.”

Louis shakes his head. “Alphas mark omegas. Alphas do the marking. _Betas_ can’t even mark, so how can omegas?! Their teeth don’t grow.. Explain that, James!”

James leans forward and roughly pulls at Louis’ collar. “You think their teeth don’t grow? You think that’s a normal mark? Conveniently on your neck here? Right on your _gland_?”

Slouching and lowering his hand from his neck with shaking fingers, Louis stutters out, “Th-that was an accident...a freak accident. He was drowning.”

“Because I can’t remember how it happened,” James dryly replies. Louis’ eyes look at his chest even though he’s clothed. Louis knows there are faded scars there from where Harry’d accidentally injured him so many years ago.

“...He’s an omega,” Louis continues, trying to find any loophole. This can’t be. There’s no way Louis wouldn’t have known. There’s no way _James_ knows this when Louis himself doesn’t.

James heavily sighs. “How do you not know any of this?”

“Know...what?” Louis asks. But he knows the answer. Knows what James is going to say, _again._  Can’t believe it.

“That you’re mates! I thought--This is ridiculous. Are you joking?”

Louis shakes his head, staring out into the room with glazed-over eyes. “How can this be a bond mark if that wasn’t what he even meant to do when he did it? He was just trying to defend himself.”

James deflates a little bit. “...You seriously don’t know..”

Louis’ appearance must tell James how genuine his ignorance is because he sighs before carefully and slowly explaining, “If it had been anybody else but you, it would’ve just been a defensive mark. Would've probably scabbed over and faded instead of changing the actual look of the skin like yours does. ...But you’re you. So... it’s a bond mark.”

Louis squints his still-glazed-over eyes.

“Seriously, kid, stop smoking so much weed. I’m getting worried about how dumb you’re acting.”

“James, for once in your life would you just stop?” Louis says with a shaky voice. “Just stop with the sarcasm.”

“I was being serious. You smoke too much.” James’ face softens, however, as he says it. “It’s killing your brain cells.”

“Look, I just don’t _get_ this, okay?”

“I...I’m just having a hard time believing that you’re this in denial.” James heavily sighs again. “What don’t you get? You’re his mate. Even before he marked you, you’ve practically been his mate, so it really shouldn’t be this big of a surprise. Everyone’s known it--everyone but apparently you--since you were this big.” James holds his thumb and forefinger together. “The act of him marking you just bonded you chemically. The facts were there long before. Plus, you guys are dating now anyway, so.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Stop lying. You guys’ve clearly been together for awhile now. When he lived here, both of you had each other completely scented it was hard to even tell you apart sometimes, you smelled so alike.”

Louis doesn’t dare tell his uncle anything about their arrangement. Or--their old arrangement. The guise of kissing--and more--and pathetically calling it practice. “It really is complicated. I’m not getting into it right now.”

“You're not as slick as you think you are. Late night trysts... Leaving your bedroom door unlocked from the outside when I personally locked you inside during rut. ...C’mon, Louis. I’m not dumb. I knew it would happen, of course, you _living_ together, but--”

“It’s not like that.” Louis shakes his head. It makes no sense. If he was mated to Harry, he’d know. He’d know. Somebody would _know_ something like that. “The mark wasn’t made to _mate_ , James,” Louis maintains. “He was, like, eleven years old. He did it on accident.”

“Well, you never rejected it, did you?”

Louis snaps his lips. “Come on. Pretty hard to reject a big scar on your neck. What the hell was I supposed to do? Tell my skin not to be skin?”

James shakes his head. “I told your mother-- _I told her._ I told her those books are stupid, that you’d never read that crap. Told her to just let me talk to you....You never read a single word on a single page of that book, did you?”

“Yes, I did, thank you very much.” Louis sulks. “Stop making me feel stupid for asking questions.”

“Well, the book says everything I’m telling you now about marking. It’s all in there.”

“It just--I just...There was stuff in there about bond marks, yeah,” Louis agrees quietly. “Nothing about an omega marking an Alpha, though. I didn’t know it could happen that way. Why--why would I ever--that’s literally never come up in my entire life. I--”

James sighs. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this. I--we all--clearly thought you already knew. It's been _years,_  Louis…”

An anger and betrayal like never before washes over Louis. He sits up fully, puffing out his chest. It’s easier to act angry than upset. “All you said--all ANY of you said-- _for years_ \--was how bonding with an omega before high school was a horrible idea, how I _better be careful,_  how you’d ground me for the rest of my life! It was never anything specifically about Harry.”

“Well, who else would it be about?”

“Then why’d you always tell me to be careful about mating before high school if I’m already miraculously mated to Harry?!”

“No, not--” James argues, sitting up fuller to wordlessly challenge Louis’ position. “Not that kind of mating. _Mating_. Mating as in...The type of mating that results in a child.”

Louis’s mortified. He’s also confused, and it must be written on his face. He backs down from his defensive posture. Despite how incompetent and stupid he’s feeling, he can’t find himself to move beyond that.

James clears his throat and says quietly. “Because you’re already mates, we were just trying to prevent...all that. We didn’t want to keep you apart...and we didn’t actually expect you to listen, especially not when Harry had to move in, so that’s why we’ve repeated it for so long. Shoot, we even gave you a condom for you to get the hint--”

“Who’s _we_?” Louis asks angrily. “How many people have been in on this?”

“What do you mean, ‘in on this’? It’s called parenting. I’ve told you, it’s been a fact that all of us thought you knew. Harry’s parents. Your mom. Jacob and I. We all had you and Harry’s best interests in mind. Graduating school. Not having to drop out to raise kids before you’re ready like Harry’s mom had to...I just never wanted to overstep my bounds...figured you knew...”

Louis suddenly springs off the bed and clenches his fists, red eyes luminescent in his room room.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” James says urgently, lunging forward and grabbing Louis’ arm. “What’s gotten into you?”

“My mother. Where is she?”

“She’s working graveyard,” James answers quickly, blocking Louis with his body. Louis starts thrashing at James’ arms to try to get around him.

“Louis, no!” James calls out, easily grabbing Louis’ arms to stop him from trying to move. “Calm down!”

“She’s lied to me for years!” Louis screams. “She’s known about this just like you have--FOR YEARS--and she hasn’t said anything! Not a _thing_! All this fucking time I’ve thought Harry’s dad was going to fucking get custody of Harry and move him away if I so much as _thought_ about marking him, thought you all would chop off my dick if I did so much as pulled it out my pants, and Jesus Christ, this whole time we’ve already _been_ mated?! You’re kidding. You’re fucking kidding.”

“Louis, be reasonable--”

“How am I supposed to be reasonable?” Louis starts pacing. “You be reasonable! No one’s said a fucking thing! For YEARS!”

“We all thought you knew!” James bellows.

“How the FUCK would I have known? If I knew, Harry wouldn’t be out there somewhere fucking--fucking _\--_ He wouldn’t--he wouldn’t--I wouldn’t--”

Louis starts almost hyperventilating, breathing in and out so quickly that his heart hurts.

James steps closer. “Are you crying?”

“I’ve been such a dumbass, just dickin’ around my whole life waitin’ on him to tell me he actually wants me to mate him because that’s what I’m supposed to do-- _respect what the omega wants, Louis. Don’t be pushy, Louis._ ” Louis presses his fingers so deep in his eye sockets to keep himself from crying that it hurts. “I’ve been waitin’ on him to be ready for, like, my entire life, waitin’ on some type of _permission_ from someone--” Louis now places his palms of his hands against his eyes to keep the tears inside, but almost immediately, his hands drop so he can form fists again.

“Louis, _calm down_.”

Louis starts shaking, jaw clenched, fists tight. He shakes his head.

“Calm down,” James orders again, and the timbre of his Alpha voice makes Louis take a long and loud inward breath.When he breathes out again, it’s shaky.

“Okay, this is serious,” James comments. “Just breathe for a little bit and try to relax.”

Louis slows down his breathing by force, closes his eyes, and lays flat on his bed for so long he appears to be sleeping.

“How you feeling?” James tentatively asks when Louis squints his eyes open again.

“Not good.”

“I can see.”

Louis doesn’t reply. Louis has to close his eyes again. His voice is a whisper when he finally speaks again. He may be imagining it, but he thinks he can feel the mark on his neck, pulsing independently like a separate, living thing. “Me and Harry are mates.”

James sighs. “It’s like I can see how fast your mind is racing to prove me I’m wrong,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed again.

“Heats.” Louis snaps his fingers. “Alphas go crazy around omegas in heat. Any omega. But their _mate_.” Louis shakes his head. “I feel like...I don’t see how I could’ve just ...How is that possible? All this time?”

“What? How you’ve kept yourself from knotting him?”

Louis looks at his ceiling and nods. So embarrassing.

“We have deodorizers on top of deodorizers on top of deodorizers in this house. _Strong_ ones. Any type of preventative measure there is to take, we have it.”

“But--”

“They’re plugged in any and all outlets available,” James supplies. “In the garage, hidden in your car..in the air vents of the house, even. Any time the air or heat cuts on, out sprays the---”

_“You’ve got to be joking.”_

“Teenage mates living under the same roof? Are you kidding? Well, we put them in when you had your first rut, actually--”

“This is ridiculous.”

“You’ll understand when you’re a parent. They’ve worked, right?”

“I’m seriously so pissed off at Mom.”

“You were so young when everything happened that she just dealt with things the only way she knew how.. And you’re the first child...I’m sure it was hard, not really knowing how to handle this stuff. You already had your classes in school, and the book we gave you answered all the other things they don’t teach in class. She wouldn’t’ve minded answering any questions you had herself, you know, but you’ve never been the best at sharing personal things, so. She gave you your space.”

“Why would any Alpha want to go to their mom and share that type of stuff?” Louis challenges. “It’s bad enough talking about this with you.”

“True.” James sighs. “Which is why you really shouldn’t blame her. She was just trying to help.

She saw how you started to act in the beginning once you would go periods of time away from Harry. How sick Anne said Harry got…” James trails off, his mouth dropping a bit. “ _No wonder._ ”

“No wonder what?”

“This explains so much.”

“ _What_ , James?” Louis asks again, sitting up.

“Why you’re so miserable all the time. It makes sense now.”

Louis blankly stares at James.

“He’s marked you.”

Louis touches his neck. “Right.”

“You guys have been apart for too long,” James shakes his head and says. “You’re separated.” He looks Louis over. “Not only are you separated mates; you don’t even _know_ you’re mates...”

“Does that make it worse or something?”

“You keep talking like the both of you had no clue at all,” James continues, ignoring Louis’ question. “You’re being absolutely serious, then? Both of you really had no idea? Not at all? Not even a suspicion?”

“I didn't. I...I don’t think Harry does,” Louis answers quietly. And now he’s gonna have to tell him. He’s gonna have to find a way to tell him. It used to thrill him to the core, the idea of them being mates one day. But not like this. He was gonna do it the right way. He was going to wait until Harry was out of school like Harry’s dad had lectured him about in the past. He was going to get permission from him, get in his good graces. They were supposed to have a bonding ceremony.

James shakes his head. “I don’t. It’s just--Not being rude, but when someone bites someone's neck over their gland, it's pretty clear that that's what it is. So. On the off-chance he _doesn’t_ know, he still has to know subconsciously. His omega knows. He’s marked you. He’s given part of himself to you. Tied himself to you.”

“Then wouldn’t I be tied to him, too?” Louis asks. “My Alpha would know I’m mated, too, then. How--”

“Yeah, but it’s a bit different since you’re marked by him while he’s not marked by you,” James explains. “He’s not, right?”

“No.” Louis looks at his lap then quickly looks back up. “What if he was?”

James sighs. “It would...strengthen it. It’d be about as strong as it could get without, you know--” he clears his throat-- ”uh, consummating the relationship.”

“What does that mean?”

“What?”

“Consummating.”

James mutters between his clenched teeth, rolling his eyes. “This is _ridiculous_ that you haven’t been taught this. Knotting him, Louis. It means knotting him.” James shakes his head and then says, “Look.I should’ve just been the one to do this a long time ago. See--when an Alpha and an omega--”

Louis groans. “Oh, God… _No_...”

“Cut it out. We’re doing this. I don’t care if you’re almost eighteen. It’s giving me practice for Connor,” James says, chuckling.

“Glad I can be used for practice,” Louis mumbles.

“So when someone marks someone else--an Alpha to an omega, an omega to an Alpha--then a part of themselves basically...goes _into_ that person. Chemically. The person who carries the mark feels a bit more... _complacent,_  I guess, because they know that--” James pauses and then corrects himself, “or they’re _supposed_ to know--deep, deep inside in their incredibly thick head--that the bond exists and the urgency isn’t so strong to get them marked, too. I can only assume maybe that’s what’s going on here? I can’t speak for you, and clearly I can’t speak for Harry. It just seems that--Typically, in the cases I’ve seen and the research I’ve done, the omega is more affected. And I’d say that that’s probably true for this situation you’re in given that Harry’s the one who’s made the mark. He’s put himself out there, so to speak, and now he’s the one who’s unattached.”

“Okay, slow down.” Louis blinks rapidly. “I’m confused. Whether I marked him or he marked me first, that’s it. It’s done. The bond’s there, and we’re mated. Right?”

“Well, yeah, but--Even though you’re mates, you've still never marked _him_ , which is good in a way, but ..maybe not so much since you somehow miraculously never really knew what was going on..but anyway, this just means he’s probably been waiting around unconsciously feeling some rejection for all these years. Probably waiting for a mark back.”

“How do you know that?”

“I really don’t. This isn’t my area of expertise. I’m just making assumptions here. I’ve never seen it happen like this since the Alpha typically is the only one who does the marking--or certainly the one who marks first if the omega marks the Alpha at all--but I can assume it’s a factor.”

“So he’s been feeling rejected,” Louis repeats, frowning. “I’ve been causing--”

“Not just him. Yourself, too. Lots of separated mates start to develop conditions. That I am familiar with. I see it a lot.”

“Conditions?” Louis asks, starting to bite his nails. “What kinds of things are you talkin’ about here?”

“Can be anything,” James answers, shrugging. “Anxiety, depression, insomnia...headaches.” He sighs and keeps counting off on his fingers. “Hypertension, nosebleeds. Any or all of the above. I guess the severity of the condition depends on the length of the absence. I’ve seen it so bad we’ve had to institutionalize a woman before.”

“That’s lovely. That’s just great.”

“I can only guess that since you two still get to see each other at school that it’s not been that bad.”

A second wave of anger courses through Louis. His head starts pounding at the temples again.“For a bunch of adult Alphas, your senses are all pretty crappy, aren’t they? Not realizing that I never even knew any of this.”

James scoffs. “We’re not mind-readers, Louis. We can sense feelings, odors, but how was anyone ever supposed to know what they’re stemming from? You never talked about it before now. Not to me. Not to your mom. We all just thought you were going through regular teenage stuff. Thought you were together but just...secretive about it. We weren't gonna impose on your relationship with him.”

It’s quiet after that. Louis wishes that James would just go away. There’s too much going through his head. He’s never felt less like an Alpha in his entire life.

“You just learned that Harry’s your mate,” James goes on, nudging Louis’ leg. “You should be ecstatic.”

Louis swallows loudly, and James discreetly sniffs the air. “Why on earth does this make you afraid?”

Louis gestures to himself. His size. His stupidity. The fact that he can’t seem to do anything right. Ever.

“Look at me, James. I’m not anybody’s dream Alpha. I’m shorter than him. My voice is higher than his. Other Alphas have more to offer.”

“Yet he wants you. What’s so hard to believe about that?”

Louis hides his face with both his hands, but he sniffs loudly enough for his uncle to hear.

“Hey, hey. Where did this come from?”

“Where did what come from?” mumbles Louis, quickly forcing himself not to start crying again. He lowers his hands from his face.

“This...total lack of self-confidence. You didn’t used to be this way. What’s going on?”

“Things changed.”

“What things?”

“He was with another Alpha last year. It just makes you think, you know. That’s all.” Louis stares at his ceiling. “Makes you doubt things.”

“...Didn’t you see another omega before, too?”

“Yeah,” Louis mutters. “Yeah, I did.”

James doesn’t reply. He just stares at Louis.

God, it used to be so much easier when he was younger. Before he had to worry about so much. It was just...him and Harry. Simple. He’d taken it for granted that Harry would want the exact same things that he wanted one day. Now his own actions have been pushing Harry away when all he’s been wanting is for Harry to just talk to him about being mates. It’s ironic that Harry’s been waiting on him to do the exact same thing.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t. That’s why I haven’t really...done it yet. I’ll fuck it up.” After chewing his fingernails down to stubs on one hand, Louis starts biting the nails on his other one. “What if he doesn’t want to be my mate?”

“He does. He marked you.”

“He could want the bond broken by now, for all I know.”

“You can’t tell me he doesn’t want to be your mate when you’ve done...mate things together.” James holds up his hands. “I know I’m your uncle, I know that’s weird to say, but I said it. Deodorizers or not, you’re living with a bunch of Alphas. We’re not dumb.”

“It’s more complicated than just that, all right?” Louis repeats. “I’m not gonna get into it, but just--just know that he’s never out-right asked for a relationship.”

“For God sake, Louis, he’s _marked_ you. Why are you making up so many excuses?” James laughs incredulously. “It makes no sense to me. It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s what I want, but is it what Harry really wants?” Louis asks. “That’s what I care about. He’s never said any of this.”

“Then he’s waiting on you to make a move.”

Louis’s about to get defensive again, about to offer that he _has_ made a move--Too many moves. Inappropriate moves. But he knows what his uncle is going to say. The first _emotional_ move. The first to say how he _feels_.

“To him, he probably sees an Alpha that doesn’t care. Talk to him about what you're thinking, feeling. Omegas don't just like it; they need to hear it.”

Louis nods and rolls over onto his stomach. He’s tired of arguing, and he’s never felt more like shit for some reason.

“Good Alphas do this stuff.” James puts his hand on Louis’ back. “Being vulnerable is just a part of it, kid.”

Louis squints an eye open. “Thanks. For everything. Doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you. All of you.”

James stands up and stretches. “Not my fault. You gotta take the blame sometimes for your own stupidity, kid.”

 

* * *

 

 

Preston won’t leave Harry alone. Ever since someone gave him Harry’s number, all week he messages Harry, trying to get to know him better. Harry doesn’t have the confidence to speak up about how he needs to lay off a bit, even if he’s beginning to want to throw his phone to the wall whenever Preston’s name pops up on the screen. It’s a little too much attention.

After a week of light texting, Preston starts full-out pursuing Harry. He finds that he doesn’t really even have to do anything and Preston still acts interested. All Harry has to do is mention that movie that came out last weekend, and already, he’s getting propositioned to see it at the mall next weekend. It’s the most ironic thing that he’s failed to get with Louis after trying so hard when he hasn’t done anything at all to make Preston like him and...now this.

Harry tries not to think about it. He has too much on his mind as it is. He and Will still aren't talking.

As he’s trying to put out all of the pastries he’s just finished making so the pedestrians on their way home from work can have a nice array to choose from, his phone vibrates in his pocket, disturbing him.

The new phone he just got still confuses him. When he brought it over to Zayn’s house so he could teach him how to use it, Zayn looked at him like he was a fifty-year-old man learning how to operate a television set for the first time or something. Whatever. He’s not rich. He’s not used to nice things.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Harry groans to himself when he feels his thigh vibrate again.

He already knows without having to look that it’s Preston, but he clicks on his phone anyway to see what he wants now. However, instead of seeing a message preceded by the usual array of stupid symbols Preston always uses to smile at him or whatever, Harry sees Preston’s body from the torso down, and at the bottom, is a large, erect penis. Harry’s eyes bulge, and he’s pretty sure he squeaks. Trying to put his phone away or get rid of the picture or do _something_ before the old ladies he works with see it, Harry inadvertently flings it across the room due to his clumsy hands, and it lands loudly on the floor before sliding and finally stopping in front of a table. Right in front of a customer. Face-up.

“Oh, no!!”

He awkwardly runs to his phone and picks it up. What kind of a person just sends something like that to someone with no warning! Harry’s in the middle of his workplace!

“Barbara, I gotta take a break, I’ll be right back!” he whisper-yells to his coworker, running to the kitchen before sitting down in a hot corner by the stoves. Immediately, he uses his big fingers to call Zayn. Stupid phone. He misses his old one.

“Oh my God, I'm gonna die,” Harry speaks once Zayn picks up.

“We all do eventually,” Zayn says without concern before coughing. “What happened?”

“Preston! He sent me a picture of--of his _parts_ ! And I dropped my phone after he did it, and it slid across the floor, and a woman who comes here a lot saw it, I just know she did, and oh, my _God_. This is the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me. In my life.”

“Preston sent you a dick pic?”

“Yes! Were you not listening?” Harry makes a frantic gesture even though Zayn won’t be able to see. “What if the woman in there freakin’ _saw_ it, Zayn! She’s gonna think I’m some pervert now, oh, my God…”

“Aw, man, I bet your face is beet-fucking-red right now.,” Zayn laughs. Harry hates him.

“It isn't funny! Since when do unmated people do this?! And it's four in the afternoon!”

That just makes Zayn laugh harder, and Harry finally cracks a smile. “I hate you. I didn't ask for this.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” Zayn laughs. “The dude’s liked you since, like, third grade. I’m surprised it’s taken him this long to do it. He probably stopped smelling--” Zayn stops his sentence and then redirects, “Sorry, Harry. I could ask Liam to talk to him for you. He’d make him leave you alone.”

“Then Preston’ll know I’ve told people about it.” Harry sighs. “I wish I never freaking started talking to him in the first place.”

Zayn says in a raspy voice, “You’re the one who keeps texting him back.”

“Because I’m trying to...be nice,” Harry quickly retaliates, distraught. “I hate my life.”

Just then, Harry’s phone makes a noise, and a message pops down from the top of the screen.

“ _Ugh_! Zayn! He's literally asking me for pictures of me now. At four in the _afternoon_. I don't even like him like that! I don’t even _know_ him like that!”

Harry can tell Zayn is doubled over with laughter. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just the way you’re talking.”

Harry finally laughs along with Zayn. “You're prob’ly high. Look, it's the end of my shift soon. Hopefully that woman left the shop already. Ugh.”

Harry stands up and walks across the kitchen. A quick peek outside at the table from before tells him he’s in the clear, but he stays put in the doorway for the time being. “Barbara?”

The older woman pops up from behind the cash register. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“My shift’s almost over, but I didn’t get all the pastries out.”

“No worries, I’ll get them. Go on and leave early.”

“Kay, thanks,” Harry says. “See ya tomorrow!”

“Bye, dear.”

Harry looks down at his phone. “Tell me if I can help, Harry,” Zayn’s voice echoes from the speaker. “I love you!”

Harry twists up his mouth before smiling. As he begins to walk outside, he doesn’t notice Louis standing in the doorway until he almost walks right into him. Harry freezes like he’s just been caught doing something bad.

Louis just raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Harry slips his phone in his back pocket like usual. “I wasn't expecting--” He shakes his head. All of a sudden he doesn’t know how to speak. “I was just gonna walk.”

“You don’t have to walk. I’m off today. I can drive you when I’m off. Or, you know, whenever I can.”

“Oh.” Harry smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“I texted you.”

“D-did you?” Harry stutters. “I didn’t--I didn’t see anything.”

Louis just nods. “Who were you talking to back there?”

“Huh?” Harry asks before looking behind him. “Oh. Barbara?”

“No, on the phone. You came out the back smiling at your phone.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “Zayn.”

“Ah. How’s he?”

“Fine.”

It’s quiet as they walk very slowly together to Louis’ car. Harry knows it's probably because Zayn made Louis think about Liam and Liam makes Louis think about angry things. He doesn’t smell angry, though. He smells normal. Smells good. Like soap or aftershave or cologne--Harry can’t figure it out. He keeps sneaking glances at him.

Louis nudges Harry’s side with his elbow. “You’re all covered in flour.”

Harry looks at his feet as he walks. “Your mom’s covered in flour,” he mumbles.

Louis smiles. “What d’you got goin' on tonight?”

“What do I got goin’ on?” Harry repeats. Like he ever has anything going on.

“Yeah. Any big plans?”

“Yeah, right. It’s Monday.”

Louis smiles again, this time bigger. “You wanna do something with me?”

Harry’s really confused. He stays confused these days. “I mean. Sure.”

Louis eagerly opens the passenger-side door for Harry, and Harry sits down in the familiar leather seat. When Louis gets in the car and starts it, he looks at Harry while the engine stalls. “What did you feel like doing?”

“I dunno,” answers Harry, shrugging. “What do you wanna do?”

“Whatever,” Louis says, shrugging too. “We could get something to eat. See a movie. Go to the river. Whatever you feel like doing. Did you have homework?”

Harry shakes his head even though he does. He always does. “The river,” he enthuses. “We should do that. I haven’t been in forever. It’s probably freezing, but whatever.”

Louis nods. “Let me buy you food first so you won’t be hungry later on, yeah?”

Harry just blinks. What the hell. “Okay.”

Louis looks up-and-down at Harry. “You wanna change first?”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Harry replies, taking off his apron and dropping it on the floor of the car. He wipes at his jeans to dust off the remnants of flour there. “I’ll just go out like this. If that’s okay?”

“All right.” Louis’ eyes turn a little soft, and Harry’s heart beats a little faster.

“How is it you normally get home after work?”

“I just walk usually, but if it’s too late or I’m tired or something, I take the bus.”

“You walk alone?”

Harry nods.

“I wish you didn’t do that.”

“Some days I don’t have a choice. Someone stole my bike.”

Louis scoffs and shakes his head. “You’ll have your license soon, won’t you?”

“Not ‘til next year.”

“I could get you a car.”

“What? No. What?” Harry stutters. “I’m not going to--What? How would you even...That’s a lot of money.”

“I’ve got my ways,” Louis looks to Harry and whispers conspiratorially.

Harry squints his eyes at Louis’ mysteriousness. “You secretly a drug-dealer or something?”

“Now there’s an idea,” Louis says while taking a wide turn. “I’ll take all of Niall’s money and retire by thirty.”

Harry laughs. He guesses that’d be true. For a split second, things feel normal between him and Louis.

“How is Old Niall?”

“Old Niall?” Harry teases. “He’s the same. He hasn’t been around much.”

“Is he pissed about the way I acted last time he came over my place?”

Harry audibly swallows. He doesn’t speak about that day. He shakes his head quickly. “He understands.”

Louis nods. “I’m serious about the car,” he eventually says.

Harry just shakes his head again. He doesn’t want the charity. It’s bad enough that Louis’ uncle feels so sorry for him that he buys him new  clothes. A new _car_ , though. That’s crazy.

They don’t do much at the casual restaurant Louis chooses, a burger joint Harry hasn’t been to in years. They just sit there and quietly chat. Well, Harry chats. He’s sort of always been a nervous chatter. And being around Louis makes him nervous now..Truly nervous. Whenever the waitress stops by their table, Louis bristles like he’s on edge all of a sudden, making it worse.

“So,” Louis clears his throat after they’ve been eating some time. He seems to have gotten progressively more nervous himself. “How was your dad’s birthday?”

Harry stares at Louis and chuckles softly. “I knew you weren't listening. It was fine. I got him a book. It’s nice to have money to buy little things now.”

Louis nods, but he’s stopped smiling so much. “How’s he doing?”

Harry shrugs. “He’s okay. He still works all the time. But he’s been dating a woman that he really likes. Another Beta. He seems happy.”

“Good.” When the conversation tapers, Louis asks, “Have you met her?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers, thinking he’s distinctly told Louis this before but can’t remember. “A few times. She’s alright.”

“What about your mom?” Louis asks. “How’s she?”

“Good. She’s been seeing another omega, actually. I don’t thinks she wants to tell many people right now, but it’s exciting. She’s happy, too.”

Louis’ eyes get big at that news, but he just nods. After continuing to interrogate Harry about everyone else he knows, he eventually stabs some of the food on his plate with his fork but misses his mouth when trying to take a bite.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks.

Louis wipes his hands on his jeans under the table. “Yeah, why?”

“You're not usually this...” Harry shrugs. “You look distracted.”

Louis shrugs.

“Do you think you’re getting sick?”

“I--uh--” Louis shakes his head and lets out a little laugh, but it doesn’t sound right.

Harry’s worried, abruptly hyper-aware. Accustomed to being around Alphas in school, his first instinct is to think any weird behavior is rut-related. He’s still not the greatest at figuring that stuff out, though. “Do you wanna leave?”

Louis pushes his plate away from him. “Yeah, if you don't mind. Too many people here. I wanna be alone.” After a brief pause, he adds, “With you.”

Harry’s eyebrows rise, but Louis says no further.

Having been seated for quite a while, they both stand up stiffly. Before Louis can do anything, Harry puts cash on the table because he guesses Louis’s not waiting for the actual bill and begins turning to the exit.

In the middle of a stretch, Louis pushes the money back to Harry wordlessly and reaches in his back pocket for his wallet. He tosses a few bills on the table.

Harry sighs. He collects his money with his free hand. “I wish you'd let me pay for something,” he mutters. “Just once.”

Louis shakes his head. “I want to pay. Save your money.”

“For what?”

“Yourself.”

“I just ate more food than you. I _was_ spending it on myself.”

Louis laughs lightly. “I got you covered. You wanna go to the river now?”

“Yeah,” Harry answers cautiously, “if you do.”

“‘Course.”

The hand on the small of Harry’s back as Louis leads him out of the restaurant is the best warmth Harry’s felt in forever.


	23. think that we got more time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, just wantes to say thanks for sticking it through and reading and supporting this! I used to respond to individual comments and I am working on doing that again because I want to express how happy it makes me that you all get excited still when I post haha! Sorry this took so long. There's a lot of stuff that happens/that will happen, so it's quite a lot to write!

After Louis walks him to his BMW and both opens and shuts the passenger-side door for him, Harry climbs in the car, looks down at his lap, and softly smiles. His leg bounces a bit while Louis walks around the car and finally takes his seat behind the wheel, and before starting the car, he turns to look at Harry. His expression is extremely soft, and he smiles largely without showing any teeth, making crinkles form by his eyes.

Harry’s suddenly shy, and his cheeks heat up. “...What’re you smiling at?”

“You,” Louis shrugs while saying. He reaches out and tugs one of Harry’s curls. “Your hair’s gotten so long.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. He looks at his lap and ruffles the sides of his head with both hands. When he looks up again, his hair is so wavy around his face it’s almost cherubic. He puts his hands under his chin and tilts his face to the side, smiling goofily.

“Dork.”

Harry just chuckles, putting on his seatbelt. The action makes his phone in his pocket come out. It’s blinking red, about to run out of battery.

“Oh. Do you maybe have a charger for this?” he asks, holding up his phone. He fixes his hair he’s just messed up by swooping it to the side of his forehead. “It’s just, I forgot I need to tell my mom where I’ll be…”  Realizing he sounds extremely young, he trails off.

Louis nods. “‘Course, it’s the same phone I have.” He reaches over Harry’s body to open the glovebox where he finds a charger and plugs it into a port in the center of the dashboard. As he moves, the smell of his jacket enters Harry’s nostrils and remains there like a thick steam in front of his face that won’t dissipate. There’s a foreign odor on Louis’ clothes from another person Harry doesn’t recognize right away. An omega.

Harry frowns, guessing it’s probably the girl who’s co-leading the school play with Louis--the one playing _Sandy_ \--since Louis most likely just got finished with theater practice before driving to the bakery. Strange...Harry hadn’t smelled anything earlier. And even stranger--he hadn’t really considered what Louis being cast as Danny would really mean. Well, he _had_ , he guesses, but the thought didn’t seem as palpable as it does now. Now, with the smell so close to his face it’s like he’s being punched by it, it’s a little impossible to ignore the reality of what Louis being the lead actor in _Grease_ actually means.

Harry’s watched the movie. He knows how the story goes. Duh.

Stupid of him, really, to be jealous over someone getting to be Louis’ mate in a play. They’re just acting, after all. Still, there’s a possessiveness starting to stab Harry as he thinks about her faceless image. An ugly emotion.

“Got your favorite CD in,” Louis shakes Harry out of his distracting thoughts, starting the car and turning up the stereo. At first there’s just white noise, but Harry immediately recognizes the band from the first second of music he hears. Fleetwood Mac.

He smiles because Louis remembers it’s his favorite CD and also, well, because it’s his favorite CD. The fact that _Go Your Own Way_ is currently playing, a song that’s a few  down on the track-listing, means Louis must’ve been listening to the first few songs on his own, Harry assumes. Harry immediately starts tapping his fingers on his khakis, and he can’t help but sing along, letting the lyrics flow from his mouth without even having to think.

_“Loving you isn’t the right thing to do. How can I ever change things that I feel? If I could, baby, I’d give you my world. How can I? When you won’t take it from me?”_

Louis joins in after that for the chorus, and they sing it together in harmony. Louis’ higher voice makes the _“you can go your own way”_ part sound infinitely more positive than Harry’s dulcet baritone ever would, and it’s weird that for a song whose lyrics seem so utterly personal and substantial to Harry, especially at this very exact moment in his life, he’s singing like it’s a happy song just because Louis is, too.

When the song’s done, Harry knows which one’s next. _Songbird_. His dad used to play the Rumours record again and again and again when he was little, so many times that even now, after any given song on it ends, Harry can hear the melody of the next one in his head before it even begins. So when _Songbird_ starts up next with its romantically soft piano, Harry knows by heart exactly how everything goes, but he doesn’t sing. Instead, he sighs quietly, blinks heavily, and listens. The song is probably the most romantic thing he’s ever heard, but also sad to him. Extremely sad.

Harry and Louis’ aloneness is suddenly tangible in car, and it feels like there’s so much to say. Harry already ran out of topics at dinner, and from the things Louis said earlier about _being alone_ , Harry’s turned anxiously expectant. From his peripheral vision, he looks at Louis as he drives. Louis remains silent, but when he notices he’s being stared at, he puts a hand on Harry’s knee. All the way to the river.

It’s not very late, but the sun has already set, and when Louis pulls up in a little abandoned spot under a row of trees, it’s dark in a way that makes it feel like midnight. Harry takes off his socks and shoes and wades around a little bit in a shallow part of the river, and Louis sits down beside a tree on the bank, watching him. It’s almost totally quiet. From time to time, Harry looks his way, and both of their lips turn up when their eyes meet. This is a good spot. Their spot. Harry could spend the night here. He could spend forever here.

After skimming some pebbles and splashing his feet a bit in the water, Harry joins Louis on the sandy dirt of the bank, and together they lean back against the tree there and stare out at the gently moving water. Between them is a very thick silence.

“The water’s not that cold,” Harry says in a quiet suggestion.

Louis smiles and shakes his head. “I’m good here.”

With Louis’ face bathed in moonlight sneaking in under the canopy of brightly colored orange and yellow leaves, he just looks so beautiful. That’s weird to say about an Alpha, Harry guesses, but it’s true. Louis’s beautiful. It’s so freaking hard to stop thinking about him this way. Impossible, actually. No matter what.

A long time goes by with them not saying anything. “Are you okay?” Harry finally asks.

“Perfect.”

“You keep shaking your foot.”

“Pent-up energy,” Louis chuckles. He finally looks to Harry, and whatever he’s about to follow that up with must get caught in his throat.

Harry looks around where they’re sitting. The ground is damp, soggy leaves all piled up everywhere. The imminent winter has made all the trees just about bare. But everything has its season, Harry guesses. The good and the bad. The warm and the cold. The passion and the...

“Remember back in the day, we'd race to the top of that tree over there?” Louis asks.

“Yep. I always beat you.” Harry doesn’t think he really _actually_ beat Louis. He’s pretty certain that Louis just let him win each time. “We should race again now. See if I’m still the champ.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Louis asks. He gestures to Harry’s leg.

“Oh,” Harry says, dropping his mouth. “Right. Probably not.”

“Don’t want you breaking any other bones.”

Harry smiles, and Louis’s about to say more, but instead, he parts his lips and quietly says, “Blue eyes.”

Harry stares at him uncomprehending. “Huh?”

“Your eyes,” he simply explains. “Blue.”

“Oh,” Harry utters, not knowing how else to respond. “You always say that.”

“Only when they’re blue.”

“Well, that’s what I mean.”

Louis looks to Harry in confusion. “No one else ever tells you when your eyes turn blue?”

Harry shakes his head. “No one’s ever seen them blue but you. Not that I know of.”

“Guess I’m special,” Louis says softly.

Harry looks down and smiles. “Guess you are.”

Louis’s been sitting with his knees up to his chest, casually leaning his arms around his knees. Jittery, he switches positions and stretches out his legs. For a second, he looks like a boy.

Harry looks down and watches Louis’ hand move closer and closer to his own. Instead of holding his hand, Louis touches the back of it before delicately moving his thumb around underneath, holding his wrist with all fingers as if feeling for a pulse.

Harry’s sure that if a pulse is what Louis’s feeling, it’d likely give his anxiety away--the nervous excitement he gets just being so close to him, the constant anticipation. Harry’s body won’t let him forget what they shared together, probably never would. It remains restless, always craving Louis’ touch, if only his hand lightly surrounding his wrist. Something supposedly so casual.

Harry swallows. His eyes that’ve turned down to look at the sand--to look at his own hand, his skln being touched by Louis--flutter back up to gauge Louis’ face. Harry can’t read him, but he thinks that for some reason maybe _he’s_ nervous; he keeps touching and rubbing his neck with his free hand. Harry wonders what's going on. Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where...where something important happens.

As always, Harry starts struggling with differentiating between what’s just wishful thinking and what’s reality. It’s all too hard to make sense out of Louis’ behavior. Everything is too hard these days. But Jesus. This isn’t the way _friends_ act. Is it?

If he closes his eyes, he can almost relax into the smell of nature. Of Louis. Hear Louis’ laughter. Pretend it was carefree between them again, back when they had fun. Joked around. Flirted. Hell, even when they made out together, when they embraced and clutched each other with naive excitement and the kind of need that arose from that sort of physicality.

Back before things got complicated, of course.

Well, they’ve always sort of been complicated. Harry opens his eyes again, accepting reality over his stupid romantic daydreams. He’d made a promise to himself that he can’t keep being used like this. And he can’t. It just makes him hurt more. He removes his hand from Louis’ touch, fingers moving up to scratch his own scalp. When he lowers his hand again, he wraps it around his torso.

Louis sighs. “It feels like it’s been forever since we’ve been alone.”

Flashes of memory flicker in Harry’s mind. Harry and Louis living together. Louis’ stifling hot room with the door locked. Louis’ tense car outside Liam’s house. Even a few awkward conversations in the school hallways--rare now, but still occasional enough to be burned into Harry’s mind.

But Harry knows what Louis means. _Alone_ alone. They’re never truly alone. Not really. Not like now.

Harry lifts his head and nods. “Guess we work all the time now, don’t we?” he asks rhetorically. And do other stuff. Theater stuff. Harry can’t stop the images suddenly popping into his brain again--an omega in a poodle skirt with Louis’ arm around her, her face as she watches him adoringly. Them dancing. Watching a drive-in movie together. Kissing.

 _Stop stop stop_.

“Oh, I was gonna tell you,” Louis responds. “I’m cutting back my hours. I’m not gonna work on the weekends anymore.”

“Oh. Not at all?”

“Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Lots of reasons,” Louis just says. He licks his lips, and his mouth is pursed in a way that makes it almost look like he’s about to say more, but he doesn’t.

“That’s nice,” Harry comments, trying to keep the conversation from dying. “Having weekends off.”

“I have rehearsals almost every single night now, so I’ll have to work weird shifts in the afternoon before going back to the school,” Louis tells Harry. “But at least it’ll clear up my weekends.”

Harry nods. “I might have the weekends off soon myself.”

“Really?” Louis asks immediately.

“Maybe,” Harry just says.

“Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?”

Harry diverts his eyes. He shrugs heavily and frowns because he’d made the conversation negative without meaning to. He’s so awkward. “I dunno. I’m afraid I’m gonna get fired, actually.”

“What?” Louis asks in surprise. “What for?”

“Well, I burned a batch of cookies the other day,” Harry admits. “So I’ve been sort of scared ever since.”

“One whole batch of cookies?” Louis asks playfully. He reaches out to pinch Harry’s skin. “What an awful baker you are.”

Harry tries to sound nonchalant as he continues, “Well, it’s other stuff, too. I don’t think I’m that good. I don’t think I’ve ever burned anything in my entire life, but it was so bad last week they almost had to get the fire extinguishers out.”

“You’re fine. I’m sure it’s happened to other people before.”

“Yeah, right.” Harry finally looks up at Louis again and makes aface. “Guess I’m not as good as I thought, huh.” He smiles to let Louis know he’s just being lighthearted.

“No, you are. I bet it’s easy to burn stuff. The bakery uses different...stoves and stuff, don’t they?”

“Ovens.”

Louis snaps his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry answers. “Industrial ones.”

“See?” Louis replies. “Maybe you just have to get used to the ovens then. If it’s just one batch you burned, that’s really not even that bad. I burn every single thing I ever cook, so.”

“But I’ve worked there for a long time now. And I’ve been baking, like, my entire life.”

“And you’re great.”

Harry makes a face. He holds out his hand and makes a motion with it to say _“ehh, so-so.”_

“Aw, c’mere,” Louis chuckles and replies, wrapping an arm around Harry and playfully pulling him in sideways. “You are.”

Harry’s taken aback a little, but his body traitorously relaxes into the touch immediately. His skin prickles as goosebumps emerge.

“Jesus. You’re freezing.” Louis rubs his hand up and down Harry’s exposed arm. “Why didn’t you say somethin’?”

“Oh,” Harry mutters, trying to laugh it off. “I’m okay. I’ve got my jacket in the car I can get later.”

Harry looks at the hand now resting on his shoulder and then at Louis’ face. Between them passes the same electricity that used to when they would… Harry’s brain turns mushy. He can’t even finish his own thought.

Louis looks away. “I want to,” he starts saying, but his voice cracks. He clears his throat. ”I need to talk to you.”

Harry feels the warmth from Louis’ hand leave, and he inadvertently shivers. The way Louis said that sounded...serious. “Okay.”

Instead of saying anything further, though, Louis stands up abruptly, wipes his hands off on his pants, and quietly tells Harry, “Be right back,” before walking to his car. He suddenly stops and turns around, like he needs to explain. “I’m just getting you your jacket from the car. ‘Cause you’re cold.”

Harry just nods. “...Thanks.”

With Louis away from him, Harry reflects on the past spring and summer and what it’s done to their relationship. It’s funny. Not _humorous_ funny, of course. Just. Weird. Louis’s seen just about every side of Harry there is to see, literally. Physically and emotionally. Seen him happy, seen him sad. Seen him in heat. Still never asked him out, never asked to be actual boyfriends. Harry stares at his lap and sighs.

Louis is silent when he finally comes back. Harry senses a change to his mood, a weirdness emanating from his demeanor all of a sudden. He holds out a thickly balled-up jacket, and Harry wordlessly accepts it and shoves his long arms in it. Louis doesn’t go back to putting his arm around him. Actually, he doesn’t even sit back down.

Harry lifts his head up. “Is...everything okay?”

Louis’ jaw is suddenly tense, his cheekbones sharp. “I should just take you home.”

Harry stares, remembering how odd Louis was acting at the restaurant, how he kept looking like he was going to throw up. “Are you about to get sick?”

“I think--maybe I am,” Louis answers. He’s already walking back to his car. Harry grabs his socks, shoves his sandy feet inside his shoes, and quickly follows, almost tripping as he tries to keep up.

They get in the vehicle together, and Harry shifts in the passenger seat. Now the air is really uncomfortable. Stale. Louis starts the car, and it idles for long moments while neither Harry nor Louis says anything.

“Did you...have something you wanted to tell me?” Harry asks tentatively.

Louis shakes his head. Harry sees his Adam’s apple move. All the way up to his chin, just about, then back down to the middle of his throat. He won’t even look in Harry’s direction. He looks...not like himself. Far away.

The tense feeling he’s getting from Louis is enough to give Harry a headache. He catches a glimpse of his own reflection in the side mirror; his face is scrunched up in tension, too, without him even meaning to make it that way. It’s like there’s something wrong. The earlier longings Harry had, as he’s gotten accustomed to, disappear in one sudden gush. Like a star. Like a beautifully burning star, alluring and hopeful, moving away and disappearing the second Harry starts to make a wish on it.

Why is Harry even surprised right now? Things only seem to get more disoriented and fucked up between him and Louis every time they’re together.

“Can you drive or are you about to throw up or something?” Harry asks, worried of course, but also hoping that he won’t have to drive this car for Louis. He barely knows how to drive at all, let alone operate a car as nice as this one. He’d probably wreck it.

Louis answers by putting the car into reverse, and he looks over his shoulder as he backs up jerkily. The tires crunch in the gravel below, and _Oh, Daddy_ plays through the stereo so hauntingly Harry wants to turn it off. Louis doesn’t break the silence for several moments. The mood grows denser.

“Who’s Preston?” is what Louis says when he finally speaks, and Harry is genuinely surprised. And horrified. Hearing Preston's name come out of Louis mouth sounds disgustingly wrong.

“Huh?”

Speeding up, Louis jerks his chin to Harry's phone where it’s been charging on the center console.

With a heavy hand, Harry reaches out and clicks the home button of his phone. There on the screen, the ridiculously and unnecessarily large screen, lights up a little bar with Preston’s name and a little square next to it. He’d sent a photo. Without even tapping on the attachment to open the message, it’s clear to Harry what it is. His penis. The whole entire penis. Close up. Erect. Knotted. Suddenly, Harry’s heartbeat thunders in his ears, and he closes his eyes slowly. The rocks underneath the car’s tires suddenly sound as gritty as Harry feels.

“Oh, God.” Harry can feel his entire face burn as he stares at his lap. The rocky road beneath the car turns into asphalt, and then there’s a turn, a forward momentum, then a stop; they must be at a light. He looks up to see Louis’ mouth so tight his lips are discernable.

“Sent you a fun message.”

Harry feels desperate to ease the tension with words, but nothing’s coming easy now. “He’s nobody.”

“So it’s just a random Alpha sending you a picture of his dick? You have his name saved in your phone.”

“It’s not...what you think,” Harry mumbles. He doesn’t know what exactly Louis thinks, but he knows how this looks. It looks like Harry’s a whore. For some reason, shame fills him and overspills. He might vomit. “Really.”

Next to Louis’ car, a large diesel truck’s engine rumbles as it stalls. Louis looks over. The man driving the the truck spits chewing tobacco out of his window onto the road. Louis hits the gas so hard his engine makes an obnoxiously loud noise, and Harry listens as the other man does the same. Both of them make eye-contact with one another before turning to stare at the stop light, waiting for it to turn green.

Harry slides himself down his seat. “Louis. Don't…”

When the light does turn green, the truck’s tires screech and smoke as it accelerates ahead. Harry grips the car-door expecting Louis to race it, but he doesn’t. Harry breathes again when the car moves again at a somewhat-normal pace.

It’s uncomfortable. Harry feels like he can’t get his lungs properly filled with air the entire car ride home. Louis keeps taking all his turns too erratically. When Louis finally pulls into a parking space outside Harry's apartment, his mood is so bad, he won’t look at Harry.

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Harry finally utters again. Pointlessly.

Louis ignores that, asking instead, “Is that the Alpha you smell like?”

“I--What?”

“You’re scent-marked sometimes,” Louis explains. He finally turns to look at Harry. “You could’ve just told me.”

“ _No._  Really, I don’t--” Harry fumbles for words. “It’s not like that at all. We have a class together, and he just--he got my number somehow, and he won’t leave me alone--”

Louis finally looks at Harry. Harry honestly doesn’t know how to place the look on his face. It’s like he’s grimacing. “Don’t lie. You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” Harry says loudly. Harry points to his phone. “He got my number and he’s...he’s just been texting me all the time.”

Louis’ voice is atypically deep and sullen when he looks at Harry. It looks like he’s looking through him. “You can tell me the truth, you know.”

“I am,” Harry scoffs lowly, almost inaudible. Despite his conflicting annoyance and unease at Louis’ behavior, he still can’t help but feel guilty he never had the guts to just tell Preston to lay off a long time ago. He could’ve prevented this. He hates how... _agitated_ Louis smells.

Louis doesn’t answer. He’s silent, brooding, and from under his own eyelashes, Harry can visibly see Louis grinding his teeth.

“Please stop acting like this,” Harry implores quietly, the mood in the car finally coming to a silent climax. Unconsciously, he tilts his head to the side a bit in an attempt to appease Louis. “Please, stop being mad. I’m telling you, I haven’t--”

“I’m not mad at you,” Louis says, but his grip on the steering wheel is still strong, eyes still sanguine. He mumbles something Harry can’t make out before saying, “It’s--I should’ve known that--” Louis clears his throat. “I just wish I knew this before.”

Harry’s suddenly irritated. “There’s--there’s nothing to _know_. I just told you--”

With his mouth open, Harry stops speaking. He leans back in the seat and shakes his head at his own behavior. Why should this even matter? Why is he defending himself? _Stuttering?_  He shouldn’t _have_ to defend himself. This is just Louis being Louis. Louis being territorial. Like always. It serves to remind Harry that all he’s good for--all he’s ever been good for--was just physical release for Louis. _Practice_. Not anything real. Not a commitment. Not a mate. Not any of those things. Just a friend he feels some sort of possessive ownership of. Of course, Harry’s basically allowed it to happen this entire time, so he can’t really blame Louis. It has to change. And it won’t change unless Harry changes.

Harry scoffs, rubs his eyes, and mumbles, “I’m so tired of this.”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of arguing with you every time we see each other,” Harry replies uncharacteristically loudly, everything in him telling him not to raise his voice yet doing it anyway, poking the bear. Who cares. Maybe he actually needs to get everything out, to have a good fight. Keeping everything inside is killing him. Feeling so distraught all the time is killing him. “This is the exact same thing that happened last time we hung out. It starts off fine, then you get all--”

“You mean the time you went to an Alpha’s home when your heat was about to start?” Louis passionately asks.

“Except it really wasn’t,” Harry grumbles, headache intensifying. What Louis doesn’t know is that his heat never even came. Still hasn’t. His cycle’s all but stopped, actually. But that’s nobody’s business. “And it was _Liam._  And it wasn’t even like I was alone with him.”

“Wanting to make sure an unmated Alpha isn’t around you pre-heat. What an awful thing for me to do.”

”But if an Alpha sends me pictures I never asked for? That’s different? That’s my fault?”

“Pictures?” Louis repeats, almost growling. “Like, plural? There’s more than just one? God, Harry, how many has this guy sent?”

“I--it’s not my _fault,_  I never--”

“I didn’t say it was your fault! Did I ever say it was your fault?”

“But...you’re acting like it, though,” Harry says a little more quietly, hoping for some sort of apology from Louis. Or understanding. Something. Anything. Something different than the stale odor of displeasure coming off him, the mean tone of his voice.

“I just want to know the truth,” Louis says quietly. “I just--Sometimes I just don’t get your...your...” Louis searches for a word. “Your motives. I wish you would--”

“My _motives_?” Harry drops his mouth. “My motives? My motives for what? I can’t help that he sent me--that he sent me that. I didn’t ask for it, if that’s what you think.”

Time passes with no answers. Harry forcefully turns down the music playing until there’s total silence. It’s a loud silence that Harry can’t mute. “You really think that, don’t you?” he whispers.

Louis rubs his temples like he has a headache, too. “I don’t know, Harry. I just wanna know the truth.”

Harry's voice is croaky when he answers, “I’m not _lying_! You’re making me feel bad for something I can’t even control.”

“Well,” Louis mutters, “add it to the list of things I can’t do right.”

“You know what?” Harry asks after a brief and disbelieving pause. He scowls and crosses his arms, wanting to project just a tiny bit of the disappointment Louis’s given him back in his direction. It’s not fair that he has to be the one upset all the time. It’s not _fair_. Louis can act however the hell he wants to, but God forbid Harry himself be unpleasant. “You’re infuriating.”

“Yeah.” Louis leans back and looks away from Harry. “I really suck, don’t I?”

Harry waits for something else, but nothing else comes out of Louis’ mouth. Inside Harry builds an anger that he’s just not used to having. It’s so strong it makes him shake. “I just want you to know that I defend you all the time, Louis. Even when everyone always tells me...”

“Everyone always tells you what?”

“Nothing,” Harry mumbles, chickening out.

“Everyone always tells you what, Harry?” Louis repeats.

Harry starts breathing faster, and he shakes his head.

“Fine,” Louis says shortly. “Then I’ll just leave you alone. Hope you have a good night.” And Harry knows this is Louis’ way of kicking him out. “Don’t forget your phone.”

Harry’s legs are lead when he finally steps out of the car. Standing stock still on the curb after grabbing his stupid apron and his stupid phone, he can’t remember ever feeling so bad. Not even when he was little and he had to stay up listening to his parents fight on Christmas Eve because they ran out of wrapping paper for his and Gemma’s gifts. Or the feeling of sitting on the bus by himself before he met Zayn and hearing Alphas talk meanly about him from behind his back. Or even physical pain, like breaking his leg. Not even almost drowning in Louis’ pool was as horrible as this.

He doesn’t know what else to do. He’s stood still long enough, and it’s clear Louis isn’t getting out of the car to walk him to the door like he normally would do. Like he _would._ Harry’s eyes betray him as always, rogue tears escaping from their corners right as he slams the passenger door.

As he approaches his apartment complex and starts walking up the stairs to the top floor, he wishes it were raining like the forecast said it would by now. When somebody feels like this, it’s just _supposed_ to rain, isn’t it? He so wishes it were. He’d get drenched in it. He’d stand out all night, then maybe he would freeze. He’d be one giant icicle. The wind would blow, and if he was lucky, he’d fall over and break.

“Wait!” he hears some time later, snapping him out of his depressing fantasies. He comes back to reality for a minute to see Louis coming up the flight of wrought-iron steps two-at-a-time. He’s been standing completely still for so long that Louis’s had enough time to have driven away, driven back, and get out of his car. Harry can’t even be sure how much time has passed. He looks away from Louis and starts ascending the staircase, walking all the way up to the third floor.

“Wait up,” Louis hollers out again.

When Harry reaches his apartment door, he digs in his pocket for his key. His face is wet. “Why are you here? Thought I was just a big fat liar?”

“I never called you a liar,” Louis denies quickly, breathing laboriously. He steps close to Harry’s door, right beside him. “Hey. Look. I never meant to...I never meant for any of this to happen. I didn’t want tonight to go like this.”

Harry looks down. “Then I guess you shouldn’t’ve acted the way you did.”

“You’re right.” Louis stands still and nods solemnly. “You’re totally right.”

Not used to Louis admitting he’s wrong, Harry is taken aback. He doesn’t move.

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” Louis admits. His face still looks pained, but it’s a bit more open now. His eyes look like his own again. “I--there’s like...there’s something that just...came over me. I can’t help it. It’s like this….really... _bad_ feeling...or something, and it’s all I could think about or even focus on, and it--it’s hard to explain, really.” He takes a very, very long breath in and a very, very long breath out. “I don’t mean to be a dick or make you...feel bad, you know? You don’t deserve it. I’m sorry. Really.”

Harry blinks. Louis’d actually apologized. He said he was sorry. And the other parts he’d said are actually very relatable; they sound a lot like the how Harry himself feels when thinking about Louis with other omegas. Harry forcefully shoves down the little spike of hope that arises inside him. It’s pointless. He reminds himself that Louis’ words don’t mean what he wants them to mean. _This is so exhausting._

Louis came back for him. Chased him. Said _sorry._  Part of Harry wants to absolutely preen, wants to throw his arms around Louis while he apologizes. _“The thought of you around an asshole Alpha kills me because I care about you, you know,”_ Louis will say, and then he’ll just reply “ _Yeah, I know, it’s okay,”_ like a good little omega would, even though it’s not, and then they’ll get back in his car. They’ll talk about whatever Louis wanted to bring up. Between them, it might feel better for awhile. They might even have an okay night. Might even make out. As friends. It’ll feel good. Too good. But that’s just what happens. Doesn’t mean anything. Still, Harry might go to bed happy for once, living a different life in his head. Then the next day it’ll be nothing. Then the next and the next. His friends will look at him in annoyance when he vents about it. He’ll cry. Then Louis and him will get the chance to hang out again. Then it’ll just happen all over again. _On to the next problem._

Harry knows how this goes by now. The cycle has become predictable. Pushing down the voice telling himself to be happy that Louis’s back in front of him, his anger at Louis rises to a level he’s never felt before, not really. The _nerve_ of him to keep doing this to Harry and _coming back_...

“Well, I’m glad that you’re suddenly all better now.” Harry’s voice is forcefully calm when he asks, “What do you want, Louis?”

Louis rubs his hands across his face like he’s washing it or something, and when he brings them down, he just asks, “I just wanna know...before I...Who is he?”

Harry wipes the corners of his eyes. “Preston?” he tries to clarify, and when Louis nods tightly, Harry stands motionless with his hands by his side, clutching the key to his apartment in one tight fist. “I already told you. You didn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I didn’t believe you. It’s not. It’s just that I didn’t _want_ to believe you.”

Harry stands there for a while, incredulous. “Thanks. That’s so much better,” he finally mutters. He unlocks the door and turns the doorknob.

“No, no, no--I don’t mean it like that,” Louis says quickly, holding the doorknob, burning Harry’s hand with his touch. “I mean--this part inside me, it’s like I’m filled with this...”

“Bad feeling?” Harry finishes for him dully.

“Right. Yeah. It’s like, I know you said that and all, but this voice in my head was, like, screaming at me that it wasn’t true, that it’s something...else. But the second I drove away, it was like I was...normal again. And--I know I sound crazy. I know I do. But you gotta believe me. I can explain.” Louis steps in closer. “Listen. There’s a reason I felt like that in the car, there’s a _reason_ you’re so unstable, why I’m acting like--”

“I’m _unstable_?” Harry whips around and bites. “Why’s that? Because I’m an omega? Why can’t I ever be taken seriously just because I’m an omega? Not everything I do or say is because I’m freaking hormonal or something. Believe it or not, I’m allowed to be angry, too. And you’re the one who’s hot and cold all the time, Louis. Like, _all the time._ ”

“That’s not what I mean, Harry, c’mon,” Louis entreats desperately. “Let me--Try to--Can we just--just start over? I didn’t mean it, and I want to explain it to you, but I want to tell you the right way,” he says urgently. “We can even go back to the river. I want to explain it to you when we’re both, like, sitting down. And calm. So let’s--let’s just forget everything and start over so I can do this the right way--”

“I don’t think I can forget it, Louis. I--” Harry shakes his head. Before he loses confidence, he closes his eyes and whispers, “I can’t keep _doing_ this to myself.”

Louis deflates. “...Doing what?”

Harry opens his eyes again and gestures to Louis himself. “ _This_. I really can’t do it. I don’t understand why it has to be so--why something has to happen, like, every time we hang out, but I can’t do it anymore. It’s too stressful. And it’s really starting to mess with me.”

“It messes with me, too,” Louis admits, to which Harry furrows his brow.

“Then why are you always the one--why do you always--?” Harry’s so distressed he can’t even finish. He knows he’s being the worst omega imaginable. He’s saying things he can’t even believe he’s saying. He’s acting in a way that’s so unlike himself he doesn’t recognize it. He can’t make himself stop, though. “I _told_ you it was nothing! You didn’t even care that I said he keeps doing it! You just went and got mad at me right away! Driving like a maniac!”

Louis takes a deep breath. “You’re not the person I’m mad at. I’m not mad at you. I promise.”

“Yes, you are. Or were. I mean, I told you he was basically, like, harassing at this point, so maybe--I dunno, Louis, instead of being a complete jerk, maybe you could’ve offered to make him stop, maybe you could’ve--I dunno--”

“I can still do that. I can make him stop.”

“Okay. Cool. I don’t even _care_ , Louis,” Harry mutters, throwing up his hands. “I don’t care. Do what you want to do. I’m tired of this.”

“I don’t want to do something...“ Louis runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. “I care about what you--I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m just gonna punch any Alpha that talks to you in the face or something. If you want me to, I could. I would.”

Harry’s sure his face is livid. What. The. Hell. “You don’t need some stupid omega’s permission. When have you ever asked for permission to punch someone? You’ve done it to just about all my Alpha friends by this point,” Harry scoffs. “And this guy is _nobody_ . _I’m_ nobody. I don’t care. I’m just tired of this.”

Louis reaches out for Harry’s hand. “You’re not stupid.”

“What do you _want,_  Louis?” Harry asks in exhaustion. He wants to cry at how good Louis’ hand feels touching his own. “Just. What do you want?”

There goes Louis’ face again, turning all pained. “I want to talk to you. Fix this... Is your mom home?”

“She doesn’t get off work ‘til later,” Harry answers.

“Could I come inside?” Louis begs, stepping closer. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Harry feels his body start to inadvertently shake. “Then talk, Louis. What do you have to say?”

“Like, talk normally.” He squeezes Harry’s hand. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I really didn’t. I’m being a total, complete dick. Please--”

“You’re not really being a dick,” Harry says, trying to sound sarcastic through his hurt. “I’m just being a crazy omega.” He turns around and tries to open the door with a shaky hand. Louis’ fingers are now on his shoulder, and they’re insistently trying to turn him around again.

“Just _please_ ,” Harry pleads, focusing on the twisting, hard knot inside his stomach. “I can’t handle this. I can’t keep doing this.” His lower lip wobbles. “‘You just make everything worse.”

Gemma opens the door then, looking ready to go somewhere. “What’s going on?”

Louis looks at her in surprise and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she answers. When Louis just stares at her, she rolls her eyes. “It’s fall break.”

Seeing Louis still standing there but not saying anything else, Harry turns to face him. He sniffs and stares blankly at Louis. It’s genuinely distressing to witness the crazy desperation on Louis’ face, and Harry starts silently crying. He wants to make it all better but can’t. He can’t do anything. He can’t make Louis say the things he wants to hear. He can’t make Louis _want_ what he wants. Not when he’s not mate-material. He’s a friend with benefits. A lifelong friend who it’s convenient to fuck around with _without_ the feelings.

Harry gasps. “That’s all it ever was,” he whispers to himself, realizing for the very first time that that’s the permanent title between him and Louis. Friends with benefits. That’s it. He was more than happy to have the label in the beginning. Thought it’d develop naturally into something else. Thought the feelings would come later. That’s where he’s been wrong this whole entire time. And that’s why Louis’s angry at the thought of Harry with someone else--’cause he knows now that he’ll lose all the perks he used to have with Harry.

“That’s all what was?” Louis asks. Harry doesn’t respond, staring open-mouthed at a spot over Louis’ shoulder, and Louis curses, running his fingers through his hair. He stares at Gemma. “Could you leave us alone, please?”

“What’s going on?” she asks again.

“Shit, Harry, could we _please_ talk?” Louis whispers insistently. “Alone?”

“Please just let me go,” Harry replies to Louis just as quietly. “Thanks for saying sorry, but. But I really can’t...I really can’t handle any more tonight.”

It looks like _Louis_ might be crying now, but Harry can’t be sure. Harry can’t tell because Louis won’t even look in his eyes. He keeps looking at the area beneath his chin. Standing in the doorway, Harry digs in his pocket and puts a few bills in Louis’ hand.

“What’s this?” Louis asks. “Why are you giving me money?”

“For my dinner,” Harry says, sniffling again. “I owe you it for paying for me.”

Louis blinks heavily, mouth open. Harry reaches in his other pocket and holds out his phone. He puts it in Louis’ hand on top of the cash.

“And this, too, I guess,” he says. He stares at Louis’ hand and turns away, not able to look at his face.

He’s offended Louis in just about every way, but all he can think about is how Louis basically pushed him out of his room while he was in rut, how he turned him down again and again. How he _consistently_ let him down. The rejection and hurt that Harry felt each and every time he’d get too hopeful. Like tonight. Like how  Louis took him to the river--their spot, their happy spot--then just ended up making him feel like shit afterwards.

Before Harry goes inside, Louis grabs his arm. Harry looks up at him with exhausted dark green eyes. They stare at each other for a long time, and Harry almost breaks into tears again.

“I guess I deserve this,” Louis whispers. “I don’t--I don’t even blame you. Just take the phone back. It’s yours. Please.”

Harry shakes his head and takes a step back. He pushes past Gemma and speed-walks to his room before he loses any more nerve and does something stupid like throw himself into Louis’ arms like the instinct within him is begging him to do. He spends the night crying, feeling a tiny bit of satisfaction that he’s managed to hurt Louis as much as Louis has continuously hurt him, then feeling all the worse for feeling that way in the first place.

  


* * *

 

  


_Find out who he is. Where he lives. Fight him. Beat him up. Protect Harry. Protect Harry. Be the strong one. Be victorious. Don’t accept the rejection._

_No one likes a vicious Alpha, Louis. You’re too aggressive._

_Don’t accept the rejection?! Harry’s seen another Alpha’s knot! Of course he has. Of course other Alphas want him. He wants other Alphas. He wants that Alpha, not you. He’d come to you for protection if he needed you. Who would want_ you _? You’re an Alpha who settled to be someone’s practice. Never told him what you wanted. Never acted like an Alpha would. You’re weak. He’s moved on. Lost your chance, Louis, sorry._

_You’re mates. He needs you. He’s marked you. It’s you he wants. Has to be you. Because you’re marked._

_He doesn’t want you; it was accidental. You’re little. You need to lift weights. You’re weak. You need bigger muscles. You need more money. You need a deeper voice and a newer car._

_You need to work more to make more money._

_You need to work less. You’re working too much. You have to spend more time with your mate._

_You can take care of Harry with money. You can buy your own place after school. You can move in together again. You can get a better car. You can get a car for Harry. You can buy anything he wants. You have to work more._

_He doesn’t want anything from you. He gave you back your phone. He won’t graduate for years after you will, anyway._

_You need to pass your classes if you want to graduate at all. And you must graduate. You must go to college. You must get good grades to go to college. You must put in applications now. Now now now. Must must must._

_You have to spend more time with your family. You have to help watch the babies. Help out with the girls. Your nephew’s almost in school now. Everyone always wants to know where Harry’s been. What you’ve done this time._

_You need to talk about your feeeeelings, Louis. It’s not that hard._

_It’s not that hard, Louis. It’s not that hard._

With all the overlapping voices in his head from every single person in his life who’s given him unwarranted advice, Louis can’t fucking think. He just knows he doesn’t know how to do this anymore. He doesn’t know. He can’t make everyone happy. He can’t make _anyone_ happy. He can’t do it.

He’s a failure.

Sitting in the one place where he thinks he can be alone at his house, the garage, Louis doesn’t know if it’s possible to feel more low.. He can’t put words to how he feels. The white-hot obsessive jealousy at another Alpha pursuing Harry had come on fast and just as quickly left, and Louis wonders if finding and removing all the hidden scent-neutralizers from his car was such a good idea after all. He’d felt completely out-of-control earlier, angry like he is while rutting, and the moment he drove away and felt some air on his face, he came to his senses. He’s actually ashamed.

Now the jealousy’s gone, sort of, and he just feels sick. Immensely sick. Sick to his stomach. Stressed out and anxious and depressed and sad and terrified all at once. And it’s horrible. The worst feelings imaginable to be combined together. He’s always liked to think that he’s a likeable Alpha, but he’s not. He’s horrible. He doesn’t fucking blame Harry one bit. Not for being interested in other Alphas _or_ for dismissing him the way that he had. Not for any of it.

He can’t believe it’s come to this. After all this.

He wonders how it would’ve gone if he’d’ve spilled out his heart to Harry before knowing the truth. Before hearing the phone chime. Before seeing the picture and all the texts that popped up before it.

Louis feels a hand nudge his shoulder, and he feels as if awakening from a deep sleep when he sits upright.

“It's late,” his mom says. She’s dressed like she’s just come home from work. Louis looks around him; her car’s in the garage. He hadn’t heard the garage door even open. Hadn’t heard her car door shut. Hadn’t heard her approaching.

Louis blinks. “Yeah.”

Jay looks around before stepping a little closer to Louis. “You’ve been sitting out here for long? It’s cold.”

Louis nods. He doesn’t move, catatonically staring at his sister’s bikes hanging from hooks against the far wall. His mom stands silently beside him for several minutes.

“What went wrong with me?” Louis finally asks, breaking the silence. His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

“What do you mean?” his mom asks slowly.

“You’re an Alpha. My father’s an Alpha. Then there’s me.”

His mom sits down on the cold concrete beside him. “Also an Alpha.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really,” his mom says slowly. “You are most definitely an Alpha.”

The moments pass. “I thought I’d get bigger one day,” Louis says. “Thought I’d get taller.”

“You’re exactly the way you’re supposed to be, Louis.”

Louis scoffs.

“And you’re seventeen,” his mom adds. “You’re not done growing yet.”

As he stands up and walks to the side door of the house, maybe his mom sees his hands shake. Maybe not. When the door is shut again, he makes it across the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before he loses it. He collapses onto his bed and clutches his phone in his hand.

Jay follows him all the way to his bedroom and stands in the doorway. Her brows are pulled together with worry. “Sweetheart, what happened?”

Louis looks at his phone still clutched in one of his hands. Of course there aren’t any messages from Harry. He’d given him his phone back. _He’d given him his phone back._ He’s been paying his mom every month _forever_ for Harry to be included on their plan. When his eyes fill and burn with liquid that feels like fire, he shakes his head.

Jay walks forward and sits on the edge of Louis’ bed. Before she can touch him, Louis holds up a hand.

“Mom, don't. I love you, but please. I can't.”

She nods, stands up, and walks away. At the threshold of the door again, she pauses. “Jamie told me he talked to you.”

Louis nods.

“I only ever wanted to look out for you, son,” his mom says regretfully.

“It’s fine,” Louis just replies, his anger with her mostly simmered by this point. “I understand.”

“He still doesn’t know?” she asks quietly.

“Why don’t you go ask him?” Louis mutters. His mom doesn’t answer him, but he immediately apologizes. “Sorry. I’m just being an asshole tonight.”

“We never meant to keep anything from you,” she says quietly. “We felt it was best to give you little doses of information as time went on. Age-appropriate information. We thought--Anne and I thought--you both knew. The second Harry marked you, we thought...We never thought that...We thought we were being clear.”

“I understand,” Louis says again, wanting his mom to leave. He sees two of his sisters peeking inside his room from the hallway now, too. His mom tells them to get back in bed.

“I haven’t talked to Anne in a long time,” his mom says. “I’m going to call her.”

“No,” Louis’s quick to get out.

She sighs. “You want to be the one to tell him yourself.”

“I want to be the one to do a lot of things,” Louis mutters. “But all I am is the one who fucks things up.”

His mother doesn’t even comment on him cursing in front of her. She quietly asks, “You’re certain he doesn’t already know?”

Louis just nods.

“You’re a part of each other,” Jay tells him, approaching him again little-by-little. “I know that with both of your emotions so high, it’s extremely difficult. Things will get better.”

“But will they?” Louis asks. “Will they, Mom? Nothing ever gets better. Nothing’s ever fine.”

“What happened tonight?” she asks again, slowly.

“I don’t even remember everything,” Louis whispers, almost like he’s talking to himself. “It’s like before a rut, you know, the way that things in your mind get…”

“Fuzzy?”

“Not fuzzy,” Louis mutters, staring out into space. “Like, angry. Jealous. I’m a complete asshole. I scared him.”

His mom silently assesses him. “You don’t smell like you’re about to have a rut,” she comments. “Why would you be so angry…” She pauses at the grim look on Louis’ face. “Louis, did you...did you hurt him?”

“No, I didn’t hurt him,” Louis shakes his head and answers slowly. “Not physically.”

“But…”

Instead of answering, Louis blinks heavily.

“Louis, you’re worrying me...”

“He said all I do is makes things worse,” Louis explains, chuckling darkly. “So I did hurt him. Do hurt him. More than once. All the time.”

His mom steps closer. “I want to help you. I need to help. I can’t help if you never tell me what’s actually going on. Louis, what happened?”

Louis doesn’t hear the rest. If there is any. A foreign sensation slams against his shoulders, chest, and stomach at the same time--a wracking force. He can’t help the sounds that come out, nor the tears, nor the way his stomach uncontrollably lurches. “He hates my fucking guts. He hates my fucking guts, Mom, and so do I,” he cries.

His mom rushes back to the bed to hug and console Louis. He accepts her hug before ultimately pulling himself together and lowering his arms from around her back. He’s cried more this past week than he can ever remember crying in his whole life.

“Don’t say that about yourself. Hey. You’re still mates,” she tells him. “He can’t hate you. It’s not possible. Things will be better when you two communicate. You _must_ communicate. It’s been so long to go without either of you understanding...”

Louis wipes away his wet cheeks. “I’m trying. I just ruin everything.”

“Could any of us help? Sit with you two together? Jacob, maybe?”

“No.” Louis groans, hiding his face in his pillow.

Jay reaches out to touch Louis’ back. “When feelings are so strong like yours and Harry’s are, it’s hard. I know it is.”

But she doesn’t, Louis thinks, as he lets his despondency out in gut-wrenching un-Alphalike sobs. She doesn’t _know_ anything. She can’t. She has no clue what this is like. And if it’s this God-awful inside his head or himself, an Alpha, then how horrible must it be for Harry?

He’d dismissed his mom earlier, but now he’s glad she’s still here. It’s helping somewhat, but Louis’s still sniffling. He widens his eyes to try to get them to dry out. “ _God,_  I can’t stop freaking crying. This is crazy.”

Louis’ mom sighs, worry covering her face. “In one week, I’m calling Anne. I know you have good intentions and want to be the one to tell him yourself, but I can’t let this go on. Not for you or for Harry. I never knew it was this...I never knew. I’ll have to intervene at some point, you know.”

Louis nods. Even though part of him wants to shout at his mother since _she_ never told him this _years ago_ , he knows he’s gonna have to stop being such a coward. He’s only making things worse. Exponentially worse.

He goes to sleep fitfully after that and ends up oversleeping the next morning, earning him another tardy-slip and finally an in-school suspension for Saturday morning due to him showing up late too many times. He’s not really bothered by that. What he’s more bothered by is that, for the first time since middle school, he wakes up to find that he’s knotted in his sleep and made the entire front of his boxers, along with his sheets, disgustingly sticky. Apparently he can be a dick, hurt Harry’s feelings, and make him cry, but still only subconsciously be worried about getting off.

It just makes him more pissed off at himself.

 

* * *

 

  


The month of November is the worst. The weather never knows if it should be getting ready for winter or hanging onto summer, and the temperatures fluctuate so often around this part of the country that Harry’s perpetually sick. At least that’s what Harry’s blaming his sudden overnight cold on. More than anything, though, November rain is the worst.

Shaking his wet hair like a dog, Harry walks inside the school’s double-doors the next morning and enters the cafeteria, walking to the same circular table at the same spot he has for the past year and a half or so. He approaches it and greets his friends, not sitting down; the spot next to Zayn is already taken by Liam, and on the other side is Niall.

“You’re here early,” Niall greets him.

“Oh, hey, Harry,” Zayn says. He’s wearing his glasses today and has his nose stuck in the book he’s reading for English class. From beside him, Liam just waves. Harry waves back.

“You can sit down, you know,” Niall says when Harry doesn’t move to sit down. “I know I don’t smell that great or anything, but.”

Harry tries to smile. He takes a seat and scoots his chair beside Niall, enough to feel his body heat, and it makes him feel somewhat better. He points to his red and stuffy nose. “I can’t smell anything, anyway.”

“What are you doin’ here this early?” Zayn asks, putting down his book.

“Gemma gave me a ride. She’s home from college for fall break.”

“So’s my sister,” Zayn says, laughing, “but she’s not getting up early to drive _me_ to school.”

“Gemma’s just babying me,” Harry explains, shrugging. He sneezes into the tissue balled up in his hand.

Niall laughs. “Bless you.”

“Maybe you should’ve slept in and grabbed the bus instead,” Zayn chuckles. “Or stayed home. You look...You look like you feel sick.”

“I know how I look,” Harry mumbles, “but thanks for putting it nicely,” he finishes genuinely.

“What’s that mean?” Zayn asks.

He tries to smile. “I know I look awful. I’m sick. And I didn’t sleep last night.”

Zayn sighs and looks at Harry meaningfully, mouthing, “ _Louis?_ ” Harry just nods.

“Why not?” Liam asks, carefully cutting the sausage that’s on the breakfast tray in front of him.

Harry looks around at the silent, expectant faces surrounding him. Niall, Zayn, Liam. He doesn’t think any of them would share his business with other people. It’s just that he’s tired of saying the same things again and again. He ends up shaking his head. “Everything in my life just sucks,” he settles with, rubbing his eyes.

“What about us, dude? What about your friends?” Niall smiles widely. “You’ve got a job, you got some money now. You’ve got a good bunch of pals if I do say so myself. We always got your back.”

“He doesn’t have what he wants the most,” Zayn says sagely.

Niall and Liam look at Harry blankly.

“Will’s mad at me,” Harry explains with a very nasally voice. “My dad’s...crappy, my mom’s always at work. My sister’s in college.” Harry looks to Liam and Zayn. “You two are always together, and you,” he says, looking at Niall, “are always off doing whatever it is you do all the time, so. I dunno. I don’t mean to make you guys feel bad. I’m just saying.”

“Hey, man,” Zayn tells him, “We can hang out tonight if you’re not working. And you have other friends, too, besides us.”

“Not really.”

“Yes, you do. What about in class? Everyone always talks to you. What about choir?”

Harry chuckles self-deprecatingly. “I mean, yeah. I have a concert next month and stuff, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not super close to anyone in choir. I talk to some people in class but we’re not friends outside of school or anything.”

“But you always could be,” Zayn says. “Everyone really likes you. You’re a really friendly omega. Everyone in my classes is all sort of put off by me.”

“Just because you’re better-looking than all of them,” Harry states, rolling his eyes. “They think you’re stuck-up.”

Zayn laughs. “I’m fine with them thinking that.”

Harry sighs. “The one person I see the most often in my life is a sixty-six year old woman who could decide any day she doesn’t want me working for her anymore because I can’t bake for shit. Or do easy things like get enough pastries out in time. I suck.”

Niall vaguely starts drumming on the table with his index fingers, looking around the cafeteria and acknowledging people he knows with little head-nods. ‘C’mon,” NIall urges. “Cheer up, dude.”

Harry shakes his head. “I think I need to see a therapist.”

“Naw, man,” Niall deflects, trying to be helpful, “you just--”

Harry interrupts, insisting, “I’m being serious. Something’s not right. I just--something’s not right. I feel so bad. All the time. Like, I’m... _angry_. And sick all the time. It’s just not right. It can’t be normal.”

Zayn scrunches up his face in worry while Liam asks, “Have you thought to go to a medical doctor then? Maybe you’ve got an infection or some sort of imbalance or something they could figure out--” Liam trails off when Niall looks at him and laughs.

“I’m being serious!” Liam sits up taller and says.

“I’ve already gone to my regular doctor,” Harry tells him. He shrugs. “She’s referring me to someone else this week. So. We’ll see. Maybe they can give me medicine that’ll actually help instead of a thousand inhalers,” Harry mumbles. He rubs his eyes. “Anyway, what were you guys talking about before I got here?”

“Fall Ball’s Friday,” Niall sing-songs.

“Friday?” Harry asks. “This Friday?”

“Yeah, where you been?” Niall asks, gesturing to the banners hanging on the balconies above the cafeteria. There’s a few that advertise next month’s play, _Grease,_  and a few with “Fall Ball” written on them in big, bold letters.

“Oh,” Harry says stupidly. “I thought it already happened. Why now?”

Niall blinks. “...’Cause that’s when it is?”

“No,” Harry says, shaking his head. “I mean, why’s it so late this year? It’s usually before Halloween. Now they’re having it before Thanksgiving break?”

“Oh, that I know the answer to,” Liam speaks up. “The plannin’ committee messed something up. I heard someone in gym class sayin’ somethin’ about it."

“How does that even happen?” Zayn asks, laughing. “That’s their one job. That’s what they do. They plan things.”

Harry laughs, too, mainly at how happy Zayn’s face is while laughing.

“The football game is Friday, too,” Liam speaks up, shaking his head. “At the same time as the dance.”

“This school’s just weird,” Zayn continues, staring up at the _Grease_ banner. “The play starting next month is _Grease_. Now that makes a lot of sense in the month of December.”

“Oh, who even cares about the school play?” Niall starts banging his fists on the table, chanting, “Fall Ball, Fall Ball, Fall Ball.”

“Woo,” Zayn replies unenthusiastically, and he goes back to reading his book. From beside him, Liam chuckles. He brings his arm up to wrap around Zayn, but at the last minute retracts it.

Niall looks at Harry, and Harry makes eye-contact with him. “No,” he firmly says. “I’m not going, and I don’t want you to find a date for me.”

“I’m not gonna try to get you a date, don’t worry,” Niall says. “Jeez. I was just gonna tell you about the party at Liam’s place after the dance.”

“I hate all these stupid parties you guys have,” Harry grumbles.

“You always say that,” Zayn speaks up, “but you end up liking it when you’re there.”

“Sometimes.”

“And you just were saying you never see us anymore,” Niall adds.

“Anyway, it’s not really a party,” Zayn explains. “Just some of us hanging out. It’s just that no one’s house is free but Liam’s.”

“Where’s your mom going?” Harry asks Liam.

“Business trip,” Liam explains.

“But...what about Thanksgiving? She’s leaving you alone? What about--”

“Oh, she’ll be back by then,” Liam explains. “She’ll just be gone over the weekend and the first part of next week. So I’ll be home alone. I’m getting some Alphas from the football team to come over, too,” he looks to Niall and adds. “They’ll bring some stuff to drink, nothing major.”

“Ooh, that means the cheerleaders’ll come, too, yeah?” Niall asks.

Zayn smiles when Liam nods his head. “Finally trying to get you a mate?”

Niall sits up taller and puffs out his chest. “I get my braces off tomorrow.”

“Ooh, what a stud,” Liam laughs. Zayn laughs along with him and goes back to reading.

Things are quiet after that. Harry eats the breakfast bar he’d packed for himself, and everyone else people-watches as students start entering the cafeteria in droves from the buses outside.

Harry’s the one to eventually break the silence. “I’ll be so glad when school’s over for good,” he says. “I hate this place.”

“Me, too,” Zayn mildly agrees, staring at his book.

“What?! These are the best years of our lives, man,” Niall argues.

Zayn looks up. “Not likely. Most stressful, more like.”

Niall waves an unconcerned hand at Zayn, brushing aside his statement. “Schoolwork and shit is no big deal. There’s Prom, there’s parties, there’s pussy. This school is ours to do what we want with.”

“Speak for yourself,” Liam says, laughing at Niall’s enthusiasm. “Everyone here besides you only enjoys, like, a third of those things.”

Zayn grins, and Harry adds after coughing, “None of us can even go to Prom until we’re juniors, anyway.”

“We can go this year if we get a date with an upperclassman,” Niall corrects. “That’s what I did last year.”

Harry looks up from the homework he’s gotten out of his bag to work on. “Didn’t you throw up in the back of a limo last year?” he asks Niall.

Zayn lowers his book. “Ah, yeah, and you were wearing that white shirt, weren’t you?” He and Harry meet eyes and grin.

Niall’s face turns red. “Yeah, yeah. I pre-gamed too hard. I won’t do that again this year.”

“Who’s your date this year?” Zayn asks.

“I don’t know yet,” Niall says, shrugging. He scoots his chair to the side to let one of his approaching friends, Ben, sit beside him. As Niall waves and Ben sits down beside him, Harry feels weird. It’s normally just their little group. Ben puts his tray of food on the table, giving Harry hardly any room to do his work.

“It’s, like, six months away,” Niall goes on. “I’ll sneak in if I have to. Then for the next two years I’ll just go solo. Unless I’m with someone by then. Maybe I will be.”

“Probably. Once your braces are off, then you’ll be really good-looking,” Zayn tells him, and Liam frowns. “What?” Zayn says to Liam, chuckling. “Oh, shut up. I can tell him that if I want to. You just called him a stud.”

Ben looks at Liam with a strange look on his face. “What did I just join in on?”

Niall points to his mouth. ”Getting these things off tomorrow. Talking ‘bout the Fall Ball and Prom.”

Ben ignores Niall to stare at Liam. “You’re gonna let him talk to you like that, though?” Ben asks him, gesturing to Zayn.

Harry looks up slowly from his homework and stares at the two Alphas who are now staring at each other from across the table. Harry doesn’t know if Ben even knows who Liam is, but maybe. Maybe not. He’s just sort of...crashed the party, so to speak. Harry vaguely remembers Zayn saying at one point he used to like Ben, too, so that makes things doubly-awkward.

Liam lowers his carton of milk from his mouth and wipes it slowly. “Do you mean, am I gonna let him joke around and laugh?”

“They're together,” Niall tells Ben, and Harry’s eyes bulge. He knows Zayn doesn’t like anyone knowing he and Liam are dating. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, that makes it even worse!” Ben laughs.

Liam cracks his knuckles nonchalantly. “He can say what he wants to say.”

Ben shakes his head and chuckles. “This omega-rights thing is too funny, dude. Omegas can’t just tell an Alpha to shut up. My grandparents would come out their graves and raise hell if they knew this kinda shit went on nowadays, omegas talking like that to Alphas.”

“Good thing they’re dead then,” Liam says, wiping his mouth off carefully with a napkin.

So...yeah. Maybe this guy _doesn’t_ know Liam after all. Harry can hear his heart begin to speed up in his chest. Great. He can’t escape from the stress.

“I wasn’t even…” Zayn trails off. “I didn’t mean anything.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam mutters.

Ben takes a big bite of food, and Harry keeps waiting for the tension to build, for the fight to happen. Ben hasn’t even really responded to what Liam said about his grandparents, and Harry’s genuinely confused. The only thing he can think of is that Ben didn't hear it or maybe just didn’t understand. That’s sort of possible, given that Liam has an accent no one around here is accustomed to hearing.

With his mouth full, Ben tells Liam like everything is cool between them, “You haven’t claimed him, that’s why.” He points to Zayn’s neck. “No mark.”

Liam sighs heavily. “Stop botherin’ me. You don’t even know us.”

Ben shakes his head. “I know Zayn--”

“And what if he’s marked somewhere else, huh? You don’t know that.”

Niall speaks up. “All right, guys, let’s just chill out. Everything’s cool.”

Ben innocently holds up his hands. “No beef here. I’m just saying, maybe he would fall in his place if he was marked. On the neck like they should be.”

“Fall in my place?” Zayn repeats.

“That’s enough, man,” Liam says loudly, affirmatively.

“They don’t really tell many people,” Niall explains, “so it’s not like he can be marked, I don’t think. Zayn’s parents don’t like it. Or they disapprove or something. Isn’t that what you said, Zayn?”

“Niall, would you please stop talking,” Zayn shortly requests. “You’re making it worse.”

Ben drops his fork and stares at Niall in expectation. “Okay, what the actual hell? I can’t believe you’re letting an omega talk to you guys like this.” Before Niall can respond, Ben goes on, looking at Zayn, “Actually, I can’t believe that your parents disapprove or whatever in the first place. Halff the male omegas in this school are either marked or knocked up. All of ‘em take it up the ass, what do your parents even expect?”

It’s then that Liam breaks his lunch tray in half.

“Oh, _great_ ,” Niall mumbles just as heads start to turn from the tables surrounding them. “I’ll just meet up with you later, dude. You should go away now.”

Harry shoves his homework in his bag and backs away quickly from the table. Zayn does the same, standing behind Liam out of instinct.

Ben looks surprised at the reaction from Liam and laughs in Liam’s face, staring at the mess of food and broken plastic now  covering the tiny table. “What’d I say?”

Then....It’s an ordeal. One of those ordeals that involves everyone in the cafeteria standing up, crowding around the two Alphas fighting, the school officials eventually breaking through the hoard of hecklers to separate them, both of them shirtless and red-skinned and sweaty in the span of just a minute-- _that_ kind of ordeal.

Harry’s so shaken from witnessing what just happened, so sick from his sore throat, and so upset from a night without sleep that he doesn’t realize the bell has already rung, and he’s late for homeroom, stuck in a crowd of people watching as Liam and Ben are being dragged to the principal’s office. He looks around and can’t find Zayn, so he starts walking. Or trying to walk. There are so many people around him that he’s stuck.

He stands on his tip-toes. “Excuse me.”

“Excuse me,” Harry says again to nobody in particular, moving through bodies. He steps on somebody’s foot--a girl taller than he is. “Oh--sorry--” he starts to say, but then quickly feels pain as she reflexively punches his arm.

“Ow! Oww!” Harry backs away from the Alpha, running into other people. “What’d you do that for?”

“You stepped on my fucking foot.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to…” Harry backs away more. He rubs his arm and scurries off to class alone.

He hates this. He hates this, he hates this, he hates this.

 

* * *

 

The rain is pelting down so steadily that Louis can’t see anything through his windshield. Having only turned on his car for the heat, he switches on the windshield wipers to try to see more than two feet in front of his face. There’s only one streetlight on, and it’s dark and rainy outside like it has been for days, but each time his wiper blades swish across his windshield, Louis can just barely make out the writing on the building he’s staring at: _Barbara’s Bakery._

He’s been watching the door hoping to catch Harry on his way out. He feels like that’s been all he’s been trying to do all week--catch him somehow--but rehearsals and work and the fact that he and Harry have literally no classes together has made it impossible. And also the fact that Harry doesn’t have a phone anymore. Louis’d tried giving it back to Gemma that night but she naturally shut the door in his face instead of taking it. Now it's sitting in the center console of his car by the gear shifts where it’s been for days, lighting up regularly with texts and photos from an Alpha who’s obsessed with Harry and his own knot.

Louis’ thoughts wander to a bad place like they’ve been doing regularly since Monday night, and before he can even hear his car door open in the first place, he hears it slam shut. Gemma, with a raincoat on but her hair still soaking wet, plops down next to him and brings in the odor of precipitation, and delayed, his canine teeth drop out of the shock and surprise. Looking at her, he feels his blood pressure spike while also feeling his eyes inadvertently burn a bit.

“Thought this was you,” Gemma looks at him and says. She doesn’t seem fazed by his on-edge appearance. “Saw the stickers on the back window.”

Louis lets out a long breath. “What are you doing?”

“Funny,” she says, wringing out the ends of her hair with her hands. “I saw your car and wanted to ask you the same thing.”

“I’m waiting.”

“...For…?”

Louis looks at the building then back at Gemma. “For him to get off work.”

“Ah, same here. I’m giving him a ride home. Sort of excessive behavior on your part, though, wouldn’t you say? Considering you’ve been calling the house twice a night, every night. Can’t really imagine he’d’ve randomly asked you to pick him up tonight.”

Louis understands that. After no contact for two days--or has it been three now? Four?--he’s gotten the message. He’s gotten the message loud and clear. Really. But he still can’t stay away. Regardless of whether or not he’s completely fucked this up beyond repair, regardless of if he’s lost his chance of actually being proper mates for good, he still has to talk to Harry. He has to tell him. Harry can--Harry can decide what he wants to do. If he wants to start the procedure of breaking the bond. If it comes to that. Shit, the thought alone makes Louis want to tear out his heart.

Louis doesn’t feel comfortable explaining any of that to Gemma, so he says nothing. Save the storm outside, it’s quiet.

“Look,” Gemma turns her body and starts. “I’m gonna make something real clear. I stay out of his business as much as I can. You know that. I always have. But that ends now. He’s miserable. It has to stop.”

“I know it has to stop,” Louis says while turning to face her, too. “I’m trying to make it stop.”

“By sitting in a car?”

“I was going to wait until he got off work to try to talk to him again.”

“Trying to talk to him the other night went pretty well,” Gemma says sarcastically.

“I need to talk to him alone,” Louis explains. “I’ve got a lot to...explain.”

Gemma shrugs. “Anything you have to say to him, you could’ve said in front of me.”

Louis shakes his head. “Not really.”

Gemma just stares at Louis, and Louis feels judged. He sighs. He doesn’t want Harry’s sister thinking he’s making Harry miserable on purpose or something. And just _how_ miserable has he been? Has it been as bad as it’s been for him? Or is Harry finally somewhat happy without him around, talking to another Alpha? With them actually being mates, though, maybe Louis’ own emotions have been transferring to Harry like some sort of weird mate-osmosis, and maybe Louis’s just been perpetuating this whole shit-storm of a situation this entire week. Is that even possible?

Fuck, what’s _not_ possible for him to ruin?

“Look, I feel like shit about that night. It wasn’t what I wanted.” It kills him that the last image his mind has of Harry was of him crying. “And I haven’t been able to even talk to him since. I haven’t even been able to see him since.”

“Ah, well maybe I can help,” Gemma offers.

“Thanks,” Louis says, turning to look through his windshield again, “but I’ve got this.”

Gemma wrings out her hair again, flicking water from her fingertips at Louis. “Waited long enough.”

“I’ve been trying,” Louis defends himself. “I’ve got rehearsals every night now until the play starts soon. I haven’t been getting done ‘til eight or nine. I’m only out now ‘cause it’s Friday and they let us finish early ‘cause basically everyone’s out of town for the holiday. Then it’s right back to it since production’s all throughout December.”

Gemma holds out her hand. “Well, isn’t there a gift or something I could give him from you? A bracelet? A book? Anything? Isn’t that how you prefer to do things?”

Louis tenses as he frowns. “I did that because your dad banned me from the house and we went to different schools at the time,” he says firmly. “You know that, right?”

“You don’t go to different schools now. And he’s right inside that building. Why don’t you go inside and talk to him now, then?” she asks quietly. “Afraid the rain’ll mess up your hair?”

“It’ll just stress him out if he’s in the middle of doing work.”

Gemma shakes her head. “You are the king of excuses.”

“Don’t act like I’m making up excuses, Gemma," Louis retorts. “You just said yourself you know I’ve been calling him each night. I’m just not tryin’ to stress him out right now at work. He says he’s already afraid he’s gonna be fired, and I know he’s not gonna even want to talk to me probably, but I want it to just be us. It...has to be just us.”

“What are you trying to talk to him so badly about?” Gemma asks. “And what do you mean, he’s afraid he’s gonna be fired?”

“He burned a batch of cookies or something last week.”

Gemma chuckles. “That’s all? That’s ridiculous. They wouldn’t fire him for that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.” Louis looks down, shrugging. “But you know how he worries.”

Gemma nods knowingly, then she chuckles, scoffing lightly under her breath. “You’re…Louis, you and Harry have been so close for years and years. I don’t get what’s going on, why he’s avoiding you. He used to be so happy.”

Louis looks down and nods solemnly. A response forms in his mouth and get stucks in his throat.

“How exactly do you two define your relationship, anyway?” Gemma asks.

“Um. Right now?”

She nods. “You didn't actually break up, did you?”

Louis hesitates then shakes his head slowly.

“Then what is it? You're on a break? Together but in a bad fight?”

“None of the above. I don’t--” Louis shuts his mouth. “Right now we don’t really have a label.”

Gemma crosses her arms. “I want to know what’s going on.” She says it in such a dictatorial way that Louis’s taken aback.

“We’re…I mean, it’s always been sort of complicated with us,” Louis settles with, choosing the safe answer he always falls back on. “I know that I--I know that I’m not--” Louis heavily sighs.

“What have you done?”

Louis closes his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“He’s absolutely miserable,” Gemma challenges. “That’s what I’m getting at. It’s not normal. What happened? If you tell me you cheated on him, I swear on my _life_ , Louis--”

“No!” Louis denies.

“Then what did you do?”

Louis opens his mouth and no sound comes out. Should he say something or should he not? Despite her sarcasm, Gemma has always gotten along with Louis just fine. He doesn’t want that to change.

“Just tell me.”

“No,” Louis eventually mumbles. That would mean having to explain a lot of things Louis doesn’t want to get into.

“Tell me,” Gemma says again.

Louis shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I will _not_ ,” Louis declines again.

“I probably know Harry better than anyone, you know. I can probably actually help with this whole situation if you just let me. Seriously.”

“If I went into it with you, really went into it with you, you’d rip my balls off,” Louis tells her, “and I’ve gotten pretty used to having them attached, thanks.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” Gemma says louder. “If he’s told you he doesn’t want to be with you anymore or something and you keep pursuing him, I’m gonna have to do something about it. You can’t just stalk an omega like this. It’s not okay.”

“Jesus, I just wanna talk to him! I’m not stalking him!” Louis says in agitation.

“How’d you know he was here?” she challenges.

“Lucky guess. He works here. I drove by and saw him inside,” Louis honestly replies. “I just need to talk to him. That’s all, Gemma. I haven’t even been able to see him at school all week.”

“He’s been sick.”

Louis frowns, his face worried. “All week? With what?”

After ignoring Louis to quietly assess him instead, Gemma points her finger at his chest, almost touching his hoodie. “I can’t explain to you how important he is to me.”

“He’s important to me, too,” Louis speaks up.

“I used to have to listen to him cry himself to sleep when he was little when our dad made our mom upset or when something bad happened at school or whatever. I used to have to be the one to cheer him up. Now he’s almost sixteen, and I’m still listening to him cry himself to sleep. I can’t be around all the time anymore. And he doesn’t deserve to feel like crap in the first place.” Gemma leans forward. “So for the last time, tell me what you did to him. Regular fights between couples don’t cause this to happen. You’ve done something. If you don’t tell me now, I’ll just find out some other way.”

Louis stares off into the distance. “I mean. I acted shitty Monday night, I know that. ‘Cause of a lot of reasons... But what I’ve really done is…” He clears his throat, thinking about his conversation with James. “What I’ve really been doing is...nothing.”

“Don’t say you haven’t done anything. I know you’ve--”

“No, what I mean is, that’s what I’ve done. I’ve done... _nothing._  I’ve never really….asked him out. And now I’m...I want to talk to him about it all, about...us...but...Well, I’m pretty sure he hates me now.”

“I’m...confused.” Gemma leans back in the seat. “You never asked him out?”

Louis feels his face heat up in shame. He just shakes his head.

“You guys have been...You’re together, though,” Gemma goes on. “What do you mean you never asked him out?”

Louis shakes his head again. “It--We had an...arrangement. We’ve never been...” He has to lower his voice with guilt. “Official.”

Gemma crosses her arms. “Explain.”

For a long time, Louis doesn’t answer, choosing instead to watch the rain. As cowardly as it felt asking Harry to kiss him for practice in the first place, it’s just the same explaining it to someone else.

“We never were boyfriends. Just friends who...did stuff.”

“What? You’re saying you were _using_ him this whole time and _that’s_ why he’s--”

Louis adamantly shakes his head. “That’s not how it was, Gemma. We were just doing stuff he was comfortable with first. I just thought if he wanted an actual relationship--I figured he’d ask when he was ready. He just never had, so--”

“And you, as an Alpha, wouldn’t be the one to ask for a relationship because…?”

“Well. That’s the part that’s complicated.”

“How so?” Gemma asks in genuine confusion. “What’s so complicated about asking him out? You’ve known him, like, your entire life.”

“Lots of things are complicated about it.”

“Like…”

Louis puts his head into his hands. When he lifts his face again, he sighs heavily. “Your dad was a big issue. Still is. But...I mean. Mainly it’s just been ‘cause I’m older than he is. We went to different schools. And I didn’t want to, like, pressure him, basically. I always just wanted him to steer things how he wanted them to go so he wouldn’t be scared or, like, mad at me and never want to be with me at all.” Louis clears his itchy throat again. “So I, uh, how it started was--I found out from someone last year that he had been dating this Alpha from the football team basically for practice, so--”

“Huh?” Gemma interrupts. “Harry never dated anyone from the football team.”

“That you know of,” Louis argues.

“No,” Gemma argues, “he never did. I would’ve known.”

“Okay,” Louis replies unconvincingly. “Anyway, I figured if he just wanted that--if practicing was, like, what he was comfortable with, then maybe he’d agree to practice with me instead and then we’d just eventually get to the point where he was ready to be mates. I just was waiting for him to, like...get to that point.”

Gemma sits in silence and blinks a few times. “ _What_ on earth are you talking about?”

“Me and Harry’s....” Louis looks away from Gemma. “What me and Harry were doing.”

“Practicing?”

Louis nods.

Gemma blinks blankly. “Practicing what?”

“Kissing,” Louis replies, side-eyeing Gemma. He won’t get into anything else with her. Not that he would, anyway, but the fact that she’s Harry’s sister makes the topic infinitely worse.

“What’s he been doing, then?” she asks. “Going from Alpha to Alpha conducting a field study on making out?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Experimenting, I guess.”

“Oh, I see. This all makes total sense. He was just doing it for research purposes.”

“Gemma, shut up,” Louis snaps. “You asked what I did; you got the answer. It’s the truth.”

“How does any of that make sense?” Gemma asks, shaking her head. “And even if that is the truth, why--” She scoffs. “Why would you, if you wanted him to be comfortable and not scared or whatever, why wouldn’t you ask for the relationship first and _then_ wait for all the physical stuff?”

Louis speaks slowly when he answers. “Because I...just...didn’t know if he wanted a relationship at all, I guess. But since he was with the other Alpha, I knew that at least he was cool with kissing. So it was just...easier....to go into it like that.”

“So you _never_ asked him for a relationship, then? After all this time?”

Louis shakes his head.

“I don’t get it,” Gemma says. “Did you just tell him you wanted to wait for him to be ready? Or--”

“No,” Louis mutters. “That’s what I’m saying. I’ve done nothing. We haven’t talked about....being official.”

Gemma’s eyes stay squinted with confusion.

“There’s more,” Louis says. He brings his fingers up to the lip of his hoodie, prepared to pull down the fabric and show off the real purpose of the mark on his neck to Gemma--to hell if she’s another Alpha or not--but he doesn’t. He scratches his neck instead, then clears his throat.

“Do you need some water or something?”

Louis shakes his head.

“Well?” Gemma finally asks. “You can’t just say that there’s more and then not say anything else.”

Louis answers, shrugging, “Well. Now it’s just...now another Alpha’s pursuing him.”

“And he told you he wants this Alpha over you now or something?”

“Well. No.”

“Then I don’t understand. None of this makes sense.”

“I know it doesn’t make that much sense, but it’s the truth, Gemma, I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

She stares at him for a very long time, eyebrows pulled together the whole time. “You’re leaving things out.”

Louis looks beyond her. He nods. “I’m not gonna tell you every little thing that’s gone on between us. Just know that I’m trying to fix it.”

“How long did this thing between you go on, anyway?”

Louis thinks back and sighs, officially feeling like he’s being formally interrogated. “Earlier this year. It stopped when he moved out.”

“Why?”

His temples start throbbing, and he winces as he starts rubbing at the sides of his head. “Gemma, please. My head’s hurting.”

“I just have to wrap my head around all this. So, does he even know you want to be mates someday? Did you tell him that much?”

“He has to know. It’s...all I’ve ever wanted,” Louis answers quietly, removing his fingers from his temples and staring at the bakery again. The question has always been--does _Harry_ want to? “I’ve never been with anybody else, never wanted anyone but--”

“That’s a lie. You were with that other omega before.”

“Not seriously, though,” Louis argues.

Gemma rolls her eyes. “I’m gonna ask one more time, just so I’m completely sure this ridiculous story you’re saying is what I’m really understanding. Tell me if I’m wrong, but...you guys acted like you were together….smelled like each other...went on dates together...I caught you guys in the _back of your car together_...but you still never _told_ him you want to be mates?”

“I was waiting for him to be the one to ask so he would feel comfortable--”

“You were waiting for him to be the one to ask because you’re scared to do it yourself.”

Louis frowns, growling deep in his throat. “Watch it.”

Gemma snaps her fingers. “And that’s why he’s been so upset. Because he doesn’t think you want a real relationship with him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” she argues. “Just because _you’re_ emotionally-constipated--”

Louis sits up taller. “Emotionally-constipated?”

“Just listening to you speak about this is torture, Louis. You’ve barely been able to get anything out without sounding like you’re on the brink of dying or something.” She starts clearing her throat, mocking Louis.

“You’re his sister,” Louis argues. “I told you, I’m not trying to get into all the details. It would be disrespectful.”

“Aren’t you sweet. Do you like my brother?”

Louis scoffs. “Of course I like him,” he says quietly. “I love him.”

“It’s just never crossed your mind to tell him before now?”

In response, Louis tightly closes his mouth.

Gemma shakes her head, whispering to herself, “How is that possible?”

“I’m...I’m trying!” Louis says loudly. “And anyway, now another Alpha wants him, and--”

“That wouldn’t make a difference if he already knew how you felt. You’ve been pursuing him for years and you’ve never told him that you actually want to be mates? Never courted him? Just made him think the whole thing was practice? I just can’t believe this...”

The defending words Louis wants to say die before he can even formulate them. He’s been relying so heavily on the fact that his feelings for Harry were obvious that he hasn’t considered that...maybe they haven’t been so obvious.

“Why are you so afraid?” Gemma asks.

Louis narrows his eyes but can’t really do anything about denying his emotions; Gemma’s an Alpha just like he is. With a much better sense of smell.

“I just think...I dunno.” Maybe it’s because it’s raining and he’s been so god-damned emotional, maybe it’s because she’s another Alpha, maybe it’s because he’s already opened up to her--he doesn’t know. Whatever it is, Louis turns to face Gemma and earnestly admits, “I just feel like he would prefer someone...I just feel like he deserves...so much more. Than me.”

“You’re right,” Gemma agrees. “He does.”

Louis’ eyes, wide and open, change to offended.

“What? You’re the one who said it. He does. He deserves to be happy.”

Louis sighs heavily. “And I’m not the one who makes him happy.”

“You could be.”

Louis bites his bottom lip and squeezes his hands into fists to stop the tingling sensation in his eyes from spilling out. For fuck’s sake. He’s quiet while willing himself not to cry in front of Harry’s sister like he’s been doing alone each night since Monday.

“You don’t think you’re good enough,” Gemma muses. “Why?”

Louis scoffs. This time the words come out easier than any before. “Anybody else would be a better pick. I’m not muscular. I’m not tall. I skate by in school. I’m not good at sports. I’m average at just about everything.”

“No, you’re not. Harry told me you’re lead of the play this year. And I’ve personally seen you play sports, and you’re great. Not that any of that matters.”

Louis scoffs. “I'm not, and of course it matters. When omegas look for mates, they look for all of those things. You know that.”

“You can’t suck as much as you say you do,” Gemma comments.

“You don't know the competition out there. I'm one of the smallest Alphas in my grade. I'm graduating this year and I have no clue what I'm even going to do with my life. I have nothing to offer. I'm a loser.”

Gemma lifts her eyebrows. “I know I give you shit and all, but I really wouldn't say you're a loser. You might smoke pot sometimes and all, but you work your ass off. Always have. And none of the omegas I've been with have ever cared about my athletic abilities...or my grades...or even that I'm dirt-poor. They care about how I treat them.”

Before Louis can speak out against any of her statements, she goes on, “Actually, what I would say omegas care the most about is how family-oriented Alphas are.” She meets Louis’ eyes. “A lot of them I date don't like how my dad and I don't talk because they like close family bonds. I've seen you with your family. You spend time with them and actually enjoy being with the little kids when most older brothers probably wouldn’t even care. And even though right now you've created a big mess with Harry, I’ve seen you with him. I can tell you care about him.”

Louis looks to the side. “If you can tell, then...why can't he be able to tell? Even though I've never...you know. Asked him to be with me.”

“Do you think he'd be able to tell without actually hearing it from you, though?” Gemma challenges. “Think like he would think.”

Louis stares at the bakery. The rain hasn’t stopped, hasn’t let up.

“You know what I think it is?” Gemma asks.

“Bet you’ll tell me anyway.”

“You just can’t stand to be in second place, so you don’t even give yourself the opportunity to lose or do something you think you’ll fail at. Before you even _can_ lose, you quit or step back. Or you just don’t even try it. You’re making this huge problem with Harry out of nothing just because you’re afraid he won’t like you the same amount you like him. That’s why you’ve never asked him for a relationship, and that’s why he’s upset. You’re insecure. It's never been about waiting for Harry to be comfortable enough to be mates with you. It was about Harry being the one to ask you so you didn’t have to ask him. You’re afraid he’d turn you down.”

The truth hits Louis so hard he almost starts shaking. Except...now, of course, the situation is way more than just that. He still mentions nothing about the fact he and Harry _are_ actually mated.

“Admitting it should be your first step,” Gemma says seriously.

“Fine!” Louis replies loudly, suddenly emotional. “I admit it. What more d’you wanna hear?! I’m a coward. I’m a fucking coward. I want him to magically feel the same way about me that I feel about him, but I’m afraid to tell him anything because I don’t want to lose what we actually _do_ have together--bullshit title or not. And now it’s gotten way out of hand, and now because of the way I’ve acted, I’ve lost him! There. Anything else you wanna know, Gemma?”

Gemma sits silently while Louis broods, staring out the windshield for Harry to walk out the building. Calmer words eventually escape Louis’ lips.

“Somewhere along the line...this year, basically, when everything started happening so quickly with me and him, it just...changed. Ever since I was a kid I wanted the same thing, you know? But I went from being so, so confident that we would be mates one day to...basically, like, admitting to myself he’ll never want it.” Louis ends in a shrug, feeling stupid.

“How could that be true after everything you guys have been through? And that practice crap you said--how do you know he didn’t start looking at you as a mate once you started doing all that?”

“Because he kept talking to his ex during all of it,” Louis immediately responds. “Still does, actually.”

“So?”

Louis’ head starts hurting again, and he can't focus to answer. “What’s freaking taking him so long…”

“If you were being completely honest earlier--were you?” Gemma interrupts herself to ask, and Louis nods. “If that's the truth, then listen. First--He may or may not have been with another Alpha before you. He may even talk to that Alpha now. Exes can still be friends. You yourself dated another omega before and you still want Harry, so you can’t really use that as an excuse that he doesn’t want you. Okay, next point. He agreed to practice kissing with you after moving in with you to...I don’t even know....to improve his skills or whatever. Then, in hardly any time at all, you guys somehow progress from kissing to almost doin’ it in the back of your car. Then, he moves out of your house and is extremely sad because you both are separated and you’ve never asked to be mates. What does all that add up to, Louis?”

Louis keeps brooding. What Gemma doesn't know is that it’s a good chance that _because_ of the bond, Harry’s been like that to start with. Louis has no clue now what has stemmed from the chemical makeup of their bond and what has stemmed from Harry's actual true feelings. It's enough to make his migraine excruciating.

Even though Louis doesn't say anything, Gemma still sighs in frustration. “ _Why_ do you keep putting up these imaginary walls in front of you, Louis?”

“Christ.” Louis crosses his arms. “Why are you so…You’ve asked me a billion questions tonight. Why do you care so much?”

“You’re family,” she replies, and something inside Louis’ gut flips. “Also, I told you--I want Harry better. You’ve got to find it within yourself to rise above all the bullshit you were talking about a minute ago. Be confident again. You can’t keep repressing your inner Alpha. Once you stop doing that, it’ll help Harry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m taking a psychology course right now. Eventually, your inner Alpha is going to become so unhinged that you’re not even gonna be able to control it. Like, your emotions will just be all over the place and that’s just going to make things worse. You should stop comparing yourself to others and just be your own Alpha. It just makes you weaker. Makes you doubt yourself.”

“All I do is make him miserable, though,” Louis mutters. “You said so yourself. He said I make things worse.”

“For God's sake, Louis. Rise above all that. It's why you're here, isn't it? Why you haven’t given up?”

Louis steels his jaw. Yes. It is. It is. No matter how much he wants to fight it, yes. Yes, that's why he's so drawn to Harry. They belong together. He’s making this worse than it has to be. It can be better. He can fix it.

He finally looks at the center console of his car. “Haven't we been waiting a while? When was he supposed to get off, anyway?”

“He told me nine,” is Gemma's only reply.

“Dammit. It's after nine. I'll go--”

“I told him I’d be waiting for him outside," Gemma interrupts him. “You didn’t see him leave, did you?”

Louis shakes his head.

Gemma puts the hat of her raincoat back on her head and wordlessly steps out of Louis’ car into the rain. Louis anxiously waits for long, silent minutes until she finally comes back. Alone, she opens the passenger-side door again.

“We’ve been out here talking so long that he’s already freakin’ left,” she says, upset.

“He left?” Louis sits up repeats in surprise. “How’d we miss him?”

“The woman in there said that his sister was supposed to be waiting for him but that she never showed up, so he got a ride from someone else,” Gemma mutters. “Man. Poor Harry. He thinks I stood him up.”

“This is why he needs his phone,” Louis grumbles. He grabs Harry’s phone from the spot it’s been resting, blinking, and holds it out for Gemma, but she shakes her head.

“He thinks it’s just charity,” she explains. Before shutting his car door, she pointedly looks at Louis and says, “Because _somebody_ never communicated to him that it was really a courting gift.”

  


* * *

 

  


After following Gemma to her apartment, Louis is full of nerves when he actually walks through the door. Doesn’t matter, though. Harry's not there.

There's already a note on the kitchen counter from him, and Gemma immediately picks it up and reads it under her breath.

“He’s going to...a person named Liam’s house?” Gemma says in the form of a question, looking down at the paper and squinting. “Is that what this says?”

Louis stands next to Gemma and reads the note. In all capital-letters, it says: “Mom, staying the night at Zayn’s. Will be at Liam’s for a while first. Call Zayn if you need me. XOXO Harry. P.S. There are pastries in the bag for you and Gem.”

“Oh, great,” Louis mutters.

“What?” Gemma asks.

“Liam,” is all Louis says, wheels turning in his brain about how to get to Harry, how to remember where Liam lives. How _not_ to seem like a genuine stalker if he were to actually show up there looking for Harry.

“Who’s Liam?”

“Harry’s friend’s Zayn’s boyfriend.”

Gemma nods and reaches into the bag Harry had left out for her while Louis takes a seat at the kitchen table. He racks his brain for several moments until it hits him.

 _Calvin_.

Calvin’s on the football team with Liam, and Calvin’s boyfriend is one of Harry’s friends, so maybe there’s his way in. Louis pulls out his phone and calls Calvin, but there’s no answer. He texts him instead, asking what’s going on tonight. His fingers drum against his jeans. Shit. Now he’s jittery. When his phone buzzes in his hand minutes later, he quickly reads, adrenaline rising for some reason.

“There was a school dance tonight and a football game,” Louis mutters to Gemma while texting Calvin back. “People are going to Liam’s afterwards. One of my friends is going so I can probably tag along with him.”

“A party?”

“Fuck, I don’t want to go to that guy’s house,” Louis mumbles to himself.

“Can I ask you something?” Gemma suddenly asks. “Does he go to a lot of parties or something?”

“Harry? I don’t think so. Not really. Why?”

“It just seems like there’re a lot of parties goin’ on all the time. I don’t get it. There weren’t this many when I was in high school.”

“Maybe it was because you were so unpopular,” Louis comments. Gemma pushes his arm.

“I guess no one has anything better to do. They normally aren’t anything special or anything. Just people hanging out. They just call them parties.”

“Still, just. If you go there, watch out for him,” Gemma tells him.

“You know I will,” Louis just says. He puts his phone in his pocket and waves at her just as she’s mouthing “Good luck.”

He leaves the apartment, stepping outside into the cold and wet darkness. Still, it doesn’t stop him from lighting a cigarette. He lifts his head and walks forward. Confidently. Down the steps. Into the rain.

Half an hour later, he lets himself into Calvin’s basement without knocking. His face twists up in disgust immediately at the thick and sticky smell in the room.

“Really, guys?” Louis groans, wafting the air with his hand. “Tell me where it’s safe to sit.”

From the end of the couch, Will giggles. When he turns his head to kiss Calvin’s cheek, Louis sees a splotchy maroon bruise in the shape of teeth.

“You went and marked him?” Louis asks with his eyebrows up high. “Seriously?”

Calvin nods proudly. His face then changes to one more severe. “You got a problem with it?”

“No, no,” Louis answers. “Just...you two...you know. Have an interesting history.”

“We discussed it.” Calvin puts his arm around Will. “Thought now was the right time.” He stops speaking to Louis to look dreamily at Will instead, and Will looks just as wistfully back at him.

Watching them sort of grossed out, Louis pulls his eyebrows together as he notices Will’s eyes turn an electric blue. A weird feeling passes through his veins. “Will,” he says stupidly. “...Your eyes just changed.”

“Oh, they always do that,” Calvin comments, kissing Will before standing up to walk to the card table in the middle of the basement. Once there, he removes weed from a crinkly bag and packs it into a small glass bowl. After bringing a lighter to it and hitting it, he holds the bowl out to Louis when he's finished.

“I’m good,” Louis declines, standing still, expectantly. Will's eyes have gone back to brown, but the fact that they were blue just a second ago doesn't leave Louis’ mind. He doesn’t understand...

“What are you just standin’ there for?” Calvin asks.

Louis gestures to the door. “I ...thought we were goin’ to Liam’s.”

“Eventually,” Calvin just says.

Louis sighs and sits down at the card table. He starts biting his nails.

“Thought you hated that guy,” Calvin says before putting the bowl to his lips and walking to the couch again.

“Harry’s there,” Louis explains himself.

After blowing out a cloud of smoke, Calvin coughs a bit. “Why don’t you just go there yourself?”

“Not a good idea,” Louis says. “It’s Liam.”

“Not my fault,” Calvin replies. “We'll be there later, alright? We got some stuff to do first.”

Louis lifts his eyebrows. “Jesus, Calvin.”

Will laughs and puts his head on Calvin’s shoulder. Louis sighs. “Look, I’ll give you a ride, how’s that? You can drink there.”

“Deal,” Calvin says.

“Well, I guess I should get ready,” Will says quietly. “D’you mind waiting?”

“Not at all.”

When he starts walking away, Calvin pulls him back, so hard that he falls right on top of his lap. Laughing, he looks up. Calvin pulls him forward for a kiss--a long, gross kiss that Louis has to divert his eyes from--and then Will finally leaves the room.

When it’s just the two of them again, Louis’ foot starts shaking in nervous anticipation. “So how’s it feel?” he asks Calvin. “Being bonded?”

Calvin stares at Louis with glossy eyes. “It’s...the best, man. It’s immediately the _best_ feeling. Makes me regret fucking around so much before.”

Louis just nods.

“Definitely feel better than the rest of the team,” Calvin adds. “Did you hear about the game?”

Louis just shakes his head, not interested. He gets up and walks to the couch, finding the remote control and switching on the television. Before sitting down beside Calvin, he’s sure to ask if it’s a safe surface. When Calvin just grins, Louis sighs and sits back down at the card table.

“It was a blow out tonight, man. Shortest game I can ever remember playing in. Their offense was just unreal. We sucked without Liam. We all just hit the locker room, showered, and came home.”

“Why wasn’t Liam playing?” Louis asked.

“Suspended from school this week.”

Louis grunts but doesn’t really reply. Both he and Calvin watch a college football game on TV in no real interest. Calvin’s staring off into space like he’s love-sick or something, but truthfully, it could just be ‘cause he’s high. Louis shakes his head. He never thought he’d actually ever go and mark Will. Not that it’s his business.

“So, Will’s eyes got blue a little bit ago,” Louis looks at Calvin and says out of nowhere.

“Yeah,” Calvin replies, scratching his face.

Louis’s expecting him to say more. “Don’t you think it’s a bit... _weird_...that they turned blue earlier? They’re brown, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but they always get like that around me,” Calvin says, shrugging.

“They get blue then go back to brown?”

Calvin nods.

“Wonder why I haven’t noticed it before,” Louis comments.

“I’ve never seen it happen any time it’s not just been us alone,” Calvin mutters. He stands up to take the remote back from Louis and changes the channel on the TV. “What’s taking him so long, anyway?”

“Guess he’s washing away your stench.”

Though Louis’s totally joking, it’s the first time Calvin’s ever truly flashed his eyes at him in a threatening way. He shuts up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get next chapter out this week then the next after that will take a bit longer but shouldn't be three more months! :)


End file.
